


Home Is Where Ever The Hell You Happen To Be

by ffrindyddraig



Series: Post First Class [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Fix, Alternate Universe, Bad Science, Brotherly Bonding, Drunkness, Gen, Mentions of Underage Sexual Activity, Mentions of sexual activity, Post X-Men: First Class, Road Trips, Smoking, Swearing, Trans Scott Summers, Underage smoking and drinking, Violence, crappy childhoods, transphobia and misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 56,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffrindyddraig/pseuds/ffrindyddraig
Summary: Alex's meets another mutant in a police cell after getting arrested (again). While he was sure his life couldn't get much worse, he didn't know it could get so damn complicated.





	Home Is Where Ever The Hell You Happen To Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in an alternate universe after the First Class, and everything set after that has been wiped away. I've tried mix movie and comic canon into one big cake, only it spilled out onto the kitchen counter, but at least Scott's older than Alex. Also Scott is trans because that's basically canon already.  
> Just warning you this is all British spelling and it hasn't been beta read. All mistakes are mine and if you think someone is out of character you're probably right. I also feel like my dislike of Charles has come though in this story. And when I said bad science in the tags, I mean it. I've lost sleep trying to work out if Scott sees everything through his glasses in red or gold (damn comic inconsistencies), and when I sought help from the best scientist I knew he told me Scott shouldn't be able to see anything. Also, scientists are grumpy when you disturb them when they are watching TV.  
> This is set in the 1964. If anything crops up that hasn't been invented yet, blame Stark or something. Also if anyone gets the great idea to copy a high Sean and want to drill their ignition cylinder, I'm sorry (?) to say it rarely works on modern cars (past 1995) and I don't want anyone to blame me if they bust up a vehicle.  
> I own neither Marvel nor the X-Men nor the characters. If I did, Scott would be happy goddamnit... also not dead.  
> So enjoy reading and five points for whoever spots the guest mutant.

Alex hated cells.

Any telepath would know he'd been in enough of them. He spent his teenage years staring at those grey featureless walls for hours on his own. Nothing to do, nothing to think. Just four walls, keeping in him, and keeping everyone else safe.

Except this time, it wasn't keeping anyone else safe. The guards had thrown him in like he was a postal package rather than a person, and slammed the door into his face the moment he turned around. He shouted obscenities at them as they undid his hand cuffs. Which was good. They had closed them so tightly that even the quick trip from where they picked him up to the station had left the tips of his fingers numb. It was probably going to bruise as well. Assholes. He kept yelling as they walked down the corridor and left him there.

He hadn't done anything wrong. It was rare that when Alex found himself in this position when that was the case. He hadn't even realised those _pigs_ had been patrolling in till they came up and arrested him. He'd asked them oh so politely what he had done and they just spat out 'vagrancy'. Alex wasn't ignorant about the world. He knew the real reason he was here was because he was a mutant. Of course, there was nothing illegal about being a mutant, and nothing at all against using your powers to light up a cigarette, but try and tell them that.

As Alex turned around, still rubbing his sore wrists and cursing under his breath, he realised he was not alone in the cell. Even if he hadn't been yelling his head off, he doubted he would of heard the other prisoner. He was so silent, Alex checked that he was even still breathing. From afar, of course, he didn't have a death wish. His cell mate was sitting on the bench, neck hanging down and long brown hair covered most of his face like a curtain. Even though Alex couldn't see much of him, he thought he was young. His limbs had a slight lanky quality to them that suggested a recent growth spurt that he wasn't quite use to yet.

When Alex had got arrested - the many times he got arrested - as a juvenile, they're had been strict rules about keeping him away from the hardened older prisoners in the jail cells while he waited for the Blandings and his social worker. Or just the Blandings, when he'd been arrested for attacking his social worker. He wondered for a second what the boy was in for, before deciding he didn't care. He wasn't a counsellor. 

He moved towards the bench. The boy, upon hearing him drag his feet along the floor, lifted his head up. Alex's feet missed a step when he saw the silver duct tape covering the boy's eyes. Maybe he was here for the same reason he was : he had a power that scared the shit out of those with too much influence. He was so fixed on the covering, he hardly had enough time to take in the rest of the boy's face before he turned away. A split lip and a bruised cheek. Anger, red like his power, pulsed inside of him. Clenching his fists at his sides, he remembered the Professors' lessons, and pushed it back down. The last thing the kid needed was to be killed by his power. The cops who did this however - he pushed that down as well. He didn't even know if it was the police who did this.

He sat on the side of the bench closest to the door, and the boy pushed himself as far away from Alex as possible. He didn't look at the older man again. He pulled his legs up and rested his cheek on them, his head looking away. He whimpered slightly at the movement. Alex suspected his face wasn't the worse of the damage.

He was the exact opposite. He leant back so his back was pressed against the cell wall and his legs spread wide in front of him. Even though the boy could not see him, Alex still put on a shell of being relaxed. This way he could trick himself. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Want me to remove the tape?" He asked, as casually as he could.

The boy squeaked out a "no", pushing himself further away from Alex. With no more bench, he fell to the hard ground with a yelp. So his mutation had something to do with his eyes then. Alex had the same fear filled reaction when they had tried to take him out of solidarity confinement. Sort of. His involved more cursing and kicking and biting.

Alex quickly stood up, ready to offer his help, but the boy had already began pushing himself back up the wall. As he rose to standing, Alex noticed that his hands were still cuffed behind him. Uncomfortably, he moved back onto the bench. Alex sat back down too.

"What's your name?" he asked. This had not got off to a good start. The boy ignored him, his face stayed angled away. At least falling off the bench had been a reaction. "My name's Alex." Nothing. He ran his fingers through his floppy blonde hair. "I'm a mutant."

_That_ got a reaction. The taped eyes turned to look at him. With only the bottom of a pale, hollow face, Alex couldn't begin to guess what that reaction was. Fear, annoyance, or hope? The boy opened his mouth, shook his head and closed it again, but his face didn't turn away. He was waiting to see what else he would say.

Damn, Alex was not good at these things. Xavier could simply telepathically pluck what you wanted to hear out your head and wrap it up in a nice like present  that made you want to join his little club. Of course, he would insist his morals stopped him doing that. Alex tended to have the exact opposite effect on people, pushing anyone he talked to away with his too big mouth and anger management issues.

He could still remember when the Professor and Magneto walked into his high security cell. They hadn't looked scared, which had surprised him. All the guards looked terrified of him, even though they had guns and fists and the power to do whatever the hell they wanted with them. They all knew they couldn't of kept him there, if he really wanted to get out. Luckily for them, it was the safest place he could be, and he knew it.

The Prof spoke first, his posh upper class English accent immediately turning Alex off him. His lawyer had the same accent and acted all proper and prim like he was above Alex. After he punched the man in the face the Blandings had to find him another one.

"I'm Charles Xavier, and my associate is Erik Lehnsherr." Magneto only nodded his head at him. Alex had liked him a lot more. Of course, if Xavier had mentioned that the man next to him was bent on revenge to such a degree that he would try to end the world, Alex might of felt a big differently. But the telepath had decided to keep that all under wraps. His naivety made him an optimist. Well, the Professor wasn't an optimist anymore.

"You are Alex Summers," Xavier carried on, " and we have a proposition for you."

Alex told them he'll pass, even with the displays of their power. He saw the disappointment on their faces when he wasn't in awe. He shot cosmic energy out his body that blew shit to kingdom come and he was meant to be amazed they could make things fly with their minds? Erik was ready to leave when Xavier said he could help Alex control his power. Now that caught his attention. He could remember clearly every time he used his mutation, and the damage it left afterwards. As they left the prison Alex was convinced he was going to spend the rest of his life in, the Professor said they would wipe him off the records. A new life to lead.

Alex couldn't promise a clean record, nor a way to control his power that, Alex was guessing from his earlier reaction, at best dangerous and at worse deadly. Under the boy's masked stare, he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I can get you out of here." Just like when Xavier said it to him, it was the wrong thing to say. The boy locked his jaw and stubbornly looked away. He wondered if the police would grant him that phone call he had a right to, and he could ask the Professor to get the hell down here and talk to the kid.  "I can tell you from experience kid, the courts don't take kindly to mutants."

"I'm not a kid." That was the first sentence the boy had uttered to Alex. It was more high pitched than he'd been expecting, making the statement even more ridiculous. The oldest he could get away with was fifteen, but Alex suspected he was a younger. A lot younger if his voice hadn't even dropped yet.

"Look like a kid to me." The boy scowled and it struck Alex that winding up a mutant (who may or may not of committed a crime) in an enclosed space without a clue what his power (except all the signs pointed to dangerous) was not his smartest move. But he liked to live on the wild side.

"I'm eighteen!" He lowered his voice, trying to prove his point. If anything, it made it worse. It was so obviously phony it was painful.

"Well then I'm eight-four."

The boy cocked his head towards Alex's voice. "You don't _sound_ that old."

His voice was so serious Alex couldn't tell if the kid was joking. He snorted. "Thanks." They lapsed into silence again as he tried to think of something else to say. Damn it! This wasn't his job. He was a drifter, an ex-con. He wasn't meant to look after lost children. In fact, he was probably meant to stay as far away from them as possible. But Alex was a good person, whatever his files had said. He couldn't just abandon people who needed his help. Hell, his life would be better if he could!

A scratching sound echoed around the cell and it took Alex a minute to realise it was coming from next to him. The boy's shoulders were moving up and down, his wrists rubbing against the wall. He thought he was trying to remove his handcuffs, but Alex realised he was just itching. They had to be uncomfortable. If he could control his powers a bit more, Alex could shot them off. Lighting up your own cig was one thing when you knew you couldn't blow off your own face, trying to delicately take off a strangers hand cuffs without removing his hands was a completely different matter. He was also nervous, which increased the chances of him blowing everything to bits.

"How long you been here?" The boy stopped scratching. His mouth moved, muttering numbers. Finally he gave up, shrugging.

"I dunno. Does it matter?"

"Depends how long you've been here. They can't hold you for more than twenty-four hours." _Unless you've committed a serious crime_. He hoped that didn't apply here. The boy shrugged again. Through his black t-shirt Alex could see his collar bones far too clearly. When was the last time this kid had a decent meal? They would of both preferred it if Alex just shut the hell up. Too bad he liked to be difficult.

"Have your parents been contacted?" Damn, he sounded like a teacher - or worse, a social worker. How many times had he heard that same question in a too sweet condescending voice after he caused another problem?

"I don't have parents." He said it as a fact. Whenever Alex uttered those exact same words they had been angry. He'd always been annoyed that someone just assumed something like that. And he liked to remind the Blandings he wasn't Todd. He never would be.

Alex guessed the boy's parents were dead, and from the indifferent sound of his voice, it had been that way for a long time. Two mutant orphans sitting in a holding cell. The start of a tragedy - or a bad novel.

Alex didn't say he was sorry. After all, it wasn't his fault the kid's parents were dead, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He didn't say he understood either. Sure, they seemed to be in the same situation, but Alex didn't even know what the boy had been through, let alone _understanding_ it. He had to sit through one too many of the Professor's talks about how they were the few people in the world who could really comprehend each other. He blasted through buildings without meaning to while _Charles_ could hold a conversation with someone who was on the other side of his mansion.

"What about your guardian?" The boy flinched at that. His mouth set into an even grimmer line, and behind his back, his hands formed tight fists. There was a story there, and Alex was pretty sure he never wanted to hear it.

"He's - " his voice cracked. He sounded lost. His voice belonged to a toddler rather than a teen. His face pointed at his lap. Deliberately avoiding Alex's eyes that he couldn't see anyway. "I don't have one of those either."

So the kid had no one. Alex wished he could say he was surprised. No wonder the kid was insisting he was eighteen. Unfortunately for him, even these cops were smart enough to not fall for that. Alex remembered when he used to run away, but there was only so far you could go when you lived on an island and flying scared you shitless. He always ended back at the Blandings' door step.

If Alex was Charles - not the Charles now who spent his days lying in bed, nursing a bottle and lost in a pipe dream of building a school for mutants, but the ignorant one who strolled into his cell a year ago - he would try and get the boy to follow him back to the mansion. But Alex wasn't Charles. Instead of promising him a shining future he grunted "tough break kid". Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the boy smile, before his face was schooled back into its frown.

Alex stood up and his cell mate pressed himself against the wall, making himself as small as possible.

"Relax," he said, lifting up his hands into a non-threatening position before remembering a) the kid couldn't see him and b) with his power putting up his hands was the worst thing he could possibly do. Quickly he put them back down. "I'm just going to the toilet."

The kid nodded, but stayed pressed against the wall. While Alex knew he had tape over his eyes, he couldn't help but feel like he could see him. Alex wasn't a shy guy, but he couldn't help feel uncomfortable as he pulled himself out and peed for what must of been five minutes. He didn't realise how badly he needed to get all that cheap beer and coke-a-cola out his system. As his pee hit the metal sides of the toilet provided, it echoed around the room. He was glad the boy couldn't see him as his face began to pull its 'this feels  freaking great' expression. He shuffled back to his seat. The boy avoided looking at him, his cheeks highlighted red.

Alex sat back down, spreading again. He tried closing his eyes but the cold concrete of the wall wasn't making sleep easy. Maybe if he had drank more...

A sharp intake of breath made Alex's eyes fly open. While he didn't know how long his eyes had been closed - or if he had actually managed to get any sleep - it was long enough for him to feel disorientated as he turned to his cellmate.

The boy was sitting up straighter than Alex had seen him. Fear etched every line in his body. He tried to pull his hands apart, but the cuffs kept them locked together. He breath was coming out in short gasps. He turned to Alex.

"You said you could get me out." His voice was thick with desperation. He tried to pull his arms apart again. If he kept that up he could seriously damage his wrists. Alex doubted he cared right now.

"Why?"

The boy shook his head, annoyed with Alex's questions. " _Please_. He _found_ me. You gotta get me out. I'll do anything. _Please_."

Alex didn't know who 'he' was, but he didn't need to be a telepath to know the boy was terrified of him. He stood up, his body already beginning to buzz with power. When he said that to the boy the first time, he meant he would call Xavier and he would bail them out. But desperate times and all that...

"Get behind me." The boy scurried behind him, wincing slightly as he stretched his bruised body.

In the way the Professor taught him in the blast shelter, Alex tried to channel his power through his hands. He held his palms towards the wall with the small, barred window in it, that lead to the outside. Sometimes he could direct it, sometimes it blew through his chest like a tank heading towards enemy lines. Today was the second one. The blast shot out of him. An endless red. Alex gritted his teeth, eyes closed. At least he didn't have to hula hoop them anymore.

Once the red had stopped, the wall was nothing more than dust and rubble. He felt the boy push past him, not wasting a second. Whoever was in the police station was clearly more scary than a man who could blast through walls. That was not reassuring. The wall collapsing had been loud, and no doubt the whole street had heard. The fuzz were probably already on their way, guns raised. Alex followed the boy through the rubble.

They had blasted into an alleyway, rather than a main street, meaning they hadn't caused a crowd to gather. They would impede there escape. They boy blinded and cuffed, took longer to stumble out than him.

Hoping he wouldn't mind, Alex grabbed the kids wrists and pulled him along. He fought it in till the older man hissed it was him. They moved quickly, Alex leading them with confidence. He ignored the passer-bys that stared. While he had only been in town for a couple of days, he knew the way from the police station to his car.

Well, he said his car. Technically it was Xavier's. He'd brought it with the man's money. The Prof had offered him one of the Rolls Royces lined up in his garage, but Alex had declined. Where he hung out that car wouldn't last a second before being stripped and stolen. Instead the man given him the largest wad of cash he had ever seen in his life. He hadn't even spent a quarter of it on the ride he brought.

He lead the kid to the passenger door. Only when he tried to open it did he remember the police took his keys. Cursing to himself, Alex tried to think of what to do. His eyes landed on the brick at the same time his mind screamed 'break in'.

He pulled his sleeve down to cover over his hand before picking up the brick. He weighed it. It seemed heavy enough. He hadn't actually done this before. Leaving the kid standing there like a lost puppy, Alex moved around to the driver side. His arm was ready to smash the window when he realised the back window would be better. That way he wouldn't have to sit on glass during the getaway.

Quickly he changed position. The glass smashed with one blow, the shards sticking to his jacket, but thankfully not his skin. He leaned in, careful not to catch himself on the sharp, ragged edges still sticking in the frame, and unlocked the driver's door. Once he was sitting in it he felt better, his hands automatically going to the ten and two position.

Suddenly remembering why he was breaking into his own car in the first place, he leant over the seats and opened the passenger door. His cellmate didn't get in straight away, hesitating.

"It's mine." Alex reassured him before realising the kid probably didn't give a damn if he was stealing a car or not. He was working out if he could get far enough away from whoever the hell was chasing him without Alex's help. "Get in if you want."

He lent down, fiddling around under his seat in till his hands closed around his driving screwdriver - for the first time he was glad a high Sean insisted on taking a drill to the ignition cylinder. He couldn't stop the grin appearing on his face when he felt the car move slightly as the boy sat down, slamming the passenger door behind him. Alex didn't know why he was so damn excited to have a passenger along, especially one that was running from the law. Maybe because this was the most fun he's had in a while (and definitely not because he was lonely).

He stuck the screwdriver into the hole, turning it as if it was a key. The engine started up with a rumble. Flicking the car into gear, he slid out into the road. Cold air blew through the broken window. Looking right, he saw his passenger struggle with his seat belt, his hands still cuffed behind him. When they were out of dodge Alex planned to sort that. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he leant over and clicked it into place. He should probably follow the kid's example. He didn't.

"Scott." His passenger said, instead of thanks.

"What?" Alex asked. They were almost out of the city. He could taste the freedom of the open road.

"My name's Scott." Alex wanted to say _I used to have a toy moose called Scott._ What he said was:

"Got it, _kid._ " And then laughed at Scott's frown.

*

The roads were endless and Alex was thankful that America was such a large continent. Even two mutants who destroyed a police station could easily fade into nothingness. All Alex's - and those of Sean's he nicked (who would of guessed the guy was such a big Elvis fan?) - tapes where in a box under Scott's seat, but he was reluctant to pull over the car to get them. Instead he flicked on the radio, switching the channels in till he found something loud and fast enough to keep him awake. The speakers in the car was crap, the bass none existent.

If his passenger did not like the music, he didn't say. In fact, he hadn't uttered a word since he told Alex his name. He would of thought the kid was asleep if it wasn't for how stiffly he held himself. Alex was thankful. The last thing anyone wanted to do in the early hours of the morning was try and make small talk. What he wanted was a decent meal, a comfortable bed and a cigarette. The first two would have to wait, but the last...

"Hey, can you grab my cigarette packet out the glove compartment?"

He took his eyes off the road to see the kid staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open.

"What?" Alex asked. Everyone smoked. If the kid didn't like it, Alex was kicking him out here. Scott swallowed, before shifting uncomfortably.

"M' hands are still tied." It took a moment for Alex to process the quiet voice. Then he swore loudly. He ignored how the boy flinched.

"Why didn't you tell me? Isn't it _painful_?" No wonder the kid looked miserable.

"Didn't think it was important." His head was bent so far forward it was practically in his lap as he spoke to him. Alex was so far out his depth he couldn't see the surface. Part of him was ready to turn the car around and drive all the way to Westchester and dump the kid there. Of course, it was unlikely an alcoholic and a blue bozo was going to be any better than this.

With one hand firmly attached to the wheel, Alex raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had a haircut. He wondered if he still pulled off the surfer mop like he did when he was younger.

"OK. I'll pull over at the next diner. Sort it out." Scott nodded to his lap. Alex blew through his front teeth. All this conversation was doing was making him need a cigarette more. "Ummm... k- _Scott_." The boy's head turned to him. Slightly cocked in a way that said 'I'm listening'. "Next time we're driving - or even if we're not driving, if we're together - and your hands are tied together, um, tell me."

"OK." The kid said in a voice that made Alex think he wasn't going to.

Fifteen minutes down the road, they pulled into a twenty-four hour diner on the outskirts of a city that Alex didn't know the name of. The neon lights outside the building cut  through the dark night and gave him enough light to see by. He lent over, taking the seat belt of the kid. If they had got pulled over, he wondered how a police officer would of reacted to a kid handcuffed and blindfolded in the front seat of a car. Hell, he probably wouldn't off pulled over. He could out drive any pig, and if they ran the plates it would just go back to Xavier.

He opened the glove compartment and rooted around inside. His fingers closed around the crumpled cigarette packet, and he slipped it into his pocket. Then he plunged his hand back in, this time coming out with a paper clip.

Expertly he bent it into the shape he needed and stuck it into the key hole. Even though it wasn't his first time at opening handcuffs, it took longer than his previous attempts. He suspected it had something to do with the fact Scott was trying his hardest to make sure their hands didn't touch.

Once Alex removed them, he threw them into the backseat. It joined the collection of other rubbish on the floor with a soft clink. One day it might come in handy. Probably more likely that his collection of empty beer bottles and food packaging. The sunglasses on the other hand. Picking them up, Alex grinned at his own genius.

"Put these on." He shoved them into Scott's hands. His fingers felt them over for a second, before he flicked them open. He put them on so smoothly Alex could only conclude he was used to putting on glasses blind. Maybe a blindfold was a permanent feature. With the glasses and the too long hair, you couldn't see the tape at all.

Finally able to, Alex pulled out a cigarette from the packet. He lit it with the lighter (also picked up from the floor) and cursed as it took a couple of attempts to get the gas to catch. Deeply he took a drag. He needed this. Already the whole night began to feel slightly better. He turned back to his passenger, about to ask if he wanted Alex to smoke through the window or something. Scott was rubbing his red wrists - why didn't he just say? - and even through the shades and the tape, Alex could tell he was looking at him longingly. No, not at him. At his smoke. He wanted to say the kid was a bit young, but not only would that be highly hypocritical - he had his first a lot younger than Scott's age - he would probably claim he was eighteen again.

"Want one?" Scott hesitated, before slowly nodding. Alex fished back out the packet and pulled out a cigarette. He put it in his own mouth to light it, before handing it over. Scott took a drag.

"T-thanks." He sounded surprised, like he thought Alex wouldn't give him on even though he offered, and far too grateful for what it was. Uncomfortable, he just muttered back "no problem". They finished their cigarettes in silence. If it wasn't for the broken window the car would of been full of smoke. Once the blacken stubs had been thrown out the car, they exited it.

Now they were in a less intense situation, Scott refused to let Alex hold his arm to guide him. When he offered to find the kid a substitute white cane, he just shrugged his shoulders and said he never used one before. Together they made their way towards the diner. Scott stayed close enough that he could hear the older man's steps and mimic them. All the way he counted the steps in till Alex told him to shut the hell up. Not his finest moment but he was tired and hungry and goddamnit he needed another smoke already. Scott shut up. Then Alex apologised, because now he felt _bad_. The kid stayed quiet, but when he kept the door open to let Scott through, he saw his lips moving.

They took a seat at the far end of the diner. It was nearly empty, apart from them only a few sleepy truckers and workers who had just got off shift. No one gave them a first glance, let alone a second.

A tired looking waiter came over. His uniform was a cheery yellow that didn't match his expression. He did not return Alex's smile.

"Whatcha wanna drink?" He asked as he threw two menus down on the table, both the same shade as his uniform. Not the kind of place that offered brail versions, not that he even knew if Scott could read it.

"Cola," said Alex, already questioning how wise it was to have caffeine at this time in the morning. He looked over at Scott, who in turn was staring at his lap, eyebrows drawn together in the middle. Who was out their depth at a twenty-four hour diner? "Make that two."

The waiter nodded, and walked back behind the counter. Alex opened his menu, his eyes travelling straight to the waffle section. Cola and pudding, Bozo was right, he was a child.

"What do you want?" Alex didn't look up from his menu, his mouth already watering from the grainy pictures of food printed on the paper.

"I don't - I don't have any money." He rolled his eyes. Trust him to find the densest teenager in America.

"I _know_ you don't have any money. I'm paying." Well, Xavier was paying, but whatever.

"Why? What do I have to do?" You would think a guy as skinny as him would just accept a free meal! Of course, a guy as skinny as him probably knew that free meals were rarely a thing.

"Nothing." At Scott's doubtful face he repeated it. " _Nothing._ And why? Because I'm a nice guy." He tried not to be hurt when Scott's face stayed disbelieving. Maybe he just didn't believe in nice guys. "OK, how about the fact we're both mutants and I could easily be in your position right now?"

Scott thought it over, before nodding slowly. "OK."

Alex tried not to let out a too big sigh of relief. It was clear the kid still didn't trust him, but at least he was going to eat. "So, what do you want?"

"Do they have cheese burgers?" Scott didn't even pause to think about it.

"They wouldn't be an American diner if they didn't."

The waiter came back over with their cola, plonking it down on the table, and causing it to spill out. Alex placed the order, narrowing his eyes when the man didn't write anything down. He got it, it was early in the morning, but he didn't have to be such a dick. Alex kept adding toppings in till the poor guy had no choice but to write it down. He was lucky he gave up when he did, Alex was quickly running out of sweet toppings, and the only savoury one he could think of was gherkins. Though he probably deserved his waffles ruined by the pickles after that display. Scott had a disapproving frown on his face, but said nothing. He bit his tongue to stop him biting out 'you're not my mother'. Not only was that comeback over used, but the boy in front of him probably wouldn't get it. Alex could all too easily imagine the confused look on Scott's face as he stutters out that of course he wasn't Alex's mother, he was younger than him and male.

As the kid started up a search pattern to find his cola on the table, Alex heard the cook in the kitchen swear.

"Who wants a burger at three in the morning?" he complained, loudly.

"Just some stoned assholes." The drawling voice of the waiter replied. Alex wondered if they knew the whole place could hear them, before deciding that customer satisfaction didn't really seem to be a priority here.

Scott looked guilty. He took long sips of the coke through his straw. Alex took more measured sips of his. The food took longer than it should have to arrive, which he suspected had the waiter's finger tips all over it. But as Alex bit into his waffle all his complaints were forgotten. What they lacked in customer service they more than made up for in the quality of their sugary based food. And from the way Scott was wolfing down his burger, he suspected that was shared by the savoury selection too.

By the second half of his waffles, he's eaten enough to slow down. He picked up his coke, taking a long sip. He watched Scott eat. One of his hands was wrapped protectively around his burger like he thought someone was going to reach over and snatch it off him. The other shoved fries in his mouth.

"So," Alex asked, "who you running from?"

Scott's face drained off all colour. A fry, half way to his mouth, dropped out of numb fingers. It landed in a pool of cola on the table. It didn't do much to convince him as the boy stammered out "No- no one."

Alex raised a single eyebrow. A wasted effort seeing as the boy couldn't actually see him. All he wanted to know was what the hell he was getting himself into.

"Look, I'm not going to snitch you up. Gangs, money, drugs, whatever? I don't care."

"No one." He said stubbornly. Then he shook his head, angrily. "Someone. Maybe. I don't remember. But I _felt_ him in my head and I just knew he was bad and I couldn't go back. The whole thing made Alex feel slightly uneasy.

Scott shrugged his shoulders. He began picking at his chips again, but this time it was more lacklustre than before. If he was a telepath, that would explain why Scott couldn't remember him. Xavier had wiped Moira's mind without breaking a sweat. He should phone him up and - and what? The Prof probably wouldn't even answer. And if he did, what could he say? Have you met any evil telepaths that aren't Frost recently?

Alex took another bite of waffle, but it didn't taste as sweet as it was before. He ate it slowly. Scott finished long before him, but not one to complain, he just sat with his head bowed downwards and waited.

Alex paid for their food. He asked the waiter and got directions to the nearest cheap motel. Normally he would just crash in the car, but he had Scott to think about. It only took five minutes in the car. Scott looked nervous, but he was too damn tired to find out why.

The man behind the reception barely looked at them, just handed them the keys to a double single room. By the time they reached the room Alex was so tired he could hardly stand up right. He crashed onto the bed, asleep before his face hit the mattress. 

*

The next day came with a crash.

Alex's eyes flew open, his power already being to brew. A burning buzz under his skin. He rolled out of bed. The fact he never made it under the covers last night making it easier. Only once he was squatted on his knees, hands spread out in front of him, did he realise the motel room was empty.

Completely empty.

Scott had gone.

Alex ran a hand through his hair. He took a couple of long breath, trying to dispel the energy of his power. He could feel the warmth dying inside of him. Once he was sure he wasn't going to explode, he sat back onto the bed, sighing. Why did he feel so disappointed? It wasn't like he expected the kid was going to hang around. He'd hardly said a whole sentence to him. He'd cost money, smoked his cigarettes and made Alex destroy a police station. His life would be easier without Scott. And lonelier. And wasn't that Alex's problem?

After Sean left, the mansion might as well of been solitary. The Professor and Hank never seem to be about and Alex was stuck in four walls. So he brought a car, and drove. Only you couldn't drive away from loneliness. It had been different in prison. Sure, it had made him crazy, but he had needed to be on his own. And now he had control - well, some any way. Enough that he wouldn't kill someone who didn't deserve it (like Darwin, he didn't deserve it, but you killed him anyway, you hurt everyone, it's all your fault). But he was still locked away from it all. All mutants were. Maybe if their wasn't humans -

No. That was dangerous territory. Shaw and Magneto's philosophy. He couldn't blame humans for the fact he couldn't fit in with the world. He was a mismatched jigsaw piece long before his mutation appeared. He would of ended up in prison one way or another, his body producing death rays just speed it up - and gave him a longer sentence. Of course, it was those exact same rays that got him out. And for a month he was an honest to God superhero, like Captain America  or the Hulk! But, unlike them, his career had been short lived, and he was back to being an uneducated drifter. When the Professor had first got him out, Alex had formed a plan in his head. Get his powers under control, go back to school and get that geophysics degree his science teacher always said he could get if he actually tried. But that had all been a dream.

Noise.

Alex jumped off the bed again, hands up. Sheepishly he put them back down again as he found himself facing Scott. First he was relieved. And then he was confused. Then he used his middle school education to work out the boy had been in the bathroom all along. (See why being a geophysicist never moved past dream level). Luckily, what he lacked in brain he made out for in being an asshole, so he didn't burst out with an embarrassing 'I thought you left' or something similar that would show he did have a heart. Instead he grunted out  "Good morning."

"S-sorry," Scott stammered out instead of greeting him back. He looked guilty, but Alex was being to realise the kid always looked like he had just done something wrong. Before Alex could ask him what the hell he could of done, he carried on. "I didn't mean to. I knocked the toilet seat down. It was an accident. I didn't mean to wake you."

So that was what the crash was. Not, as Alex thought, his roommate fleeing out the window. He wasn't the kind of guy to lie to spare someone's feelings. And the kid _did_ wake him up. However, not mentioning something to spare someone's feelings was completely different and Alex was not becoming soft on the boy at all.

"Have you tried out the shower?" He asked instead. Scott shuck his head. Alex stretched, and what sounded like every joint in his body clicked. He made his way to the bathroom. If he was passing anyone else he would of given them a punch on the shoulder, but he knew that if he did that to Scott the next crash he heard would actually be the kid jumping out the window. "I'll tell you if it's any good."

Alex shut the door behind him, finding himself in a room that felt smaller than a postage stamp. He could easily see how Scott knocked something over in here. He lifted up the toilet seat, pissing out last night's cola. Then he stripped his clothes off and entered the shower. It was cold, the water pressure abysmal and the motel was so cheap it didn't even have those little complimentary soap. Nor, Alex realised when his teeth began to chatter from the cold and he turned it off, a towel to use. As a substitute he used his t-shirt on the floor. Any sweat and grim that shower removed, he no doubt just rubbed it back on with it.

He pulled on his old jeans and exited the small room. He hung his wet t-shirt on the window, hoping the sunlight streaming through it would be enough to dry it. Scott, sitting on the bed, looked miserable. Now in daylight and awake, Alex could easily see the bruises on his face. More disturbingly though, he could also see the bruises on his neck. He'd been chocked, most likely by a foot. And that was only what Alex could see. He knew the wrists covered by the long sleeved shirt would be black and blue. He should rush the kid down to the doctors and get him checked out by someone who can actually tell how serious it all was, but the issue of them both breaking out of jail less than twenty-four hours ago kept coming up.

"Shower is lousy." Alex told him. The boy nodded, and Alex got the feeling he wouldn't he wouldn't take one even if he said it was a gift from God himself.  

Alex moved back to his bed. Tucked under one metal corner of the standard issue frame was his rucksack. Even his exhausted mind knew not to leave his only possessions in a car he couldn't lock, that had a broken back window and any person with a screwdriver (or a strong fingernail) could make off with. Or, Alex realised, any person who looked under the seat and saw the screwdriver waiting for them. It was the equivalent of leaving your house keys under the welcome mat _and_ leaving the front door wide open anyway. Alex was surprised when he peeked out the motel window and saw the car still sitting there. He searched through his rucksack, pulling out his cleanest tank top and pulling it on. It stuck to his damn skin. Over the top he threw on a hoodie.

"Want a jumper?" Scott 'looked' at him in shock. Then, comically, he turned his head to both sides like he might hear someone else in the room. "I mean you kid."

For a moment he thought Scott was going to ask why, but he hesitantly nodded. "O-ok."

Alex balled up his least favourite sweater and threw it at the boy. Not his smartest move, Alex realised, when it hit Scott in the side of the head. Instead of being annoyed, the boy untangled it quickly and pulled it over his head, before Alex could change his mind. The jumper swamped him. No doubt if the boy stood up it would hang off him like a dress. And Alex could tell Scott was trying not to grin from ear to ear. He wondered if the boy thought he had been claimed.

Alex's stomach growled, and he looked at the clock on the wall. No hands. Sighing, he made a note not to go to the cheapest motel next time.

"Want to find some lunch?" Scott shrugged his shoulders, which Alex took as a yes. After all, the kid was just skin and bones.

Alex swung his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly as it flew into his back. "Let's go."

The kid jumped up like a soldier. The cheap sunglasses were still on his face, meaning they - or, more correctly Alex - wouldn't have to look for them before they could leave. With no plans to come back, Alex quickly scanned the room to see if there was anything else left about. His t-shirt! While the plain white shirt was not his favourite top, he did not own many. It was still wet - he had only placed it to dry ten minutes ago. Sure he now had everything, he opened the door.

Scott, upon hearing this, moved forward. His head was still bowed, like he was looking at his feet, and each step was slightly hesitant. As he got closer, Alex could hear him counting. Not expecting the older man to keep the door open, Scott reached forward. His fingers brushed Alex's top, and he pushed himself backwards like the contact had burnt. He stammered out a sorry, and left the room all but pushed against the opposite side of the door frame. Alex wanted to tell him to relax, but he knew Scott would not - and _could_ not, he was beginning to suspect - comply.

He followed the kid through, locking the door behind him. Then they travelled down the corridor. Alex had been so exhausted the night before, he had not kept track on how to get out. Luckily, Scott was somehow able to recall it. Maybe his real mutation was a brilliant memory, and the blindfold was just a distraction.

They got the lobby area. Alex slowed down - if the clock in the lobby was right, they had missed check out and he really didn't want to pay for another night at this shit hole. Luckily, no one was at the desk. He hurried Scott through, leaving the key to their room on a waiting chair.

Lunch consisted of a cigarette, a cheese burger and a cola each in a diner where the waiters actually knew how to smile. In fact, one even knew how to flirt. Something Alex took full advantage off in till he remember Scott was sitting right there. He still gave her a larger tip than he would of normally had. So her plan worked.

On their way out of town, he bought gas and a tarp to cover the broken window. The newspapers at the garage had no mention of two mutants on the run. Alex wondered if the two of them were so insignificant, or if it was due to Scott's telepathic stalker. He suspected it was the second - after all they did ruin all the holding cells in a police station. At least it meant they could go out in public.

They drove in till the sun went down, and then for a bit longer. This time Alex played his own tapes, Scott getting to pick the first one (well, second - the one he originally drew was an Irish ditty tape that was most defiantly Sean's) and they drove to decent music blaring out the speakers. If Scott was feeling sore from spending all day in a car he didn't say. Alex thought he was just happy getting as far away from that police station as possible.

Dinner that night was vending machine crisps and coke, eaten in their motel room. Alex thought he could live like this forever.

*

Two days later Alex was bored out his mind.

He'd seen too much of the same landscape fly past through the window as he barrelled far too fast down another numbered high way, eaten too many cheese burgers at different crappy road side diners, and he spent too many hours sitting in silence with Scott. Looking back, Alex wondered how he managed two whole days.

That night, body buzzing to do something, Alex had to get out the motel. He didn't ask Scott. The kid was out of place in a motel room, let alone somewhere with actually people.  Alex went to the local bar. A student place, he realised as he looked around the room. Not a single person in the room could of been over twenty-one. That was fine by Alex, after all, neither was he. His tight tank top and faded blue jeans made him stand out from the chino and button up clad boys around him. Not a bad thing, from the ways the girls were looking at him. Rich hotties always loved a bad boy.

He lit up a cig, breathing in a large lungful, before strolling through the bar. He liked to think people's eyes were following him as he moved. Especially the brunette looker talking to a preppy. She looked bored out her mind, but the guy didn't seem to realise. Probably talking about daddy's Rolls Royce. Sadly, it was work before pleasure, and Alex needed to stock up on some money. Xavier's fund was going to run out sooner rather than later.

He brought an overpriced beer from the bar tender who didn't even look at him as he served it up. Leaning back on the bar top, he took another puff. Like a lion, he surveyed his surroundings.

The two pool tables were full up, men trying to show off their skills. But Alex didn't give that more than a quick glance. He was an average pool player - about a fifty-fifty chance he could beat Sean in a match. Definitely not good enough odds to place money on. Darts on the other hand...

All that training in the Professor's bomb shelter had fine tuned Alex's hand eye coordination. Not only could he blast a moving object (and only that moving object) from the other side of the room with his power, he was also damn good at darts. He smiled, imagining Hank's face if he found out that all those hours spent together training was just going to be used for hustling.

Alex took a small glug of beer. As great as his coordination was it went down the shitter if he had more than a pint. He took long strides over, but didn't disturb the game already being played. Instead he just watched the prey. Hair slicked back perfectly and smart-casual shirts with the top buttons undone. Alex hated them already.

One of them - a blonde - was awful, and he knew it. He laughed every time he threw one of the darts and it embedded itself anywhere but the board, but Alex could tell he was frustrated. Rich boys didn't like it when things didn't go their way. His black haired friend - who was actually alright - was also frustrated as he tried to teach him.

Finally the blonde managed to hit the outer ring of the board. _Lucky shot_ Alex thought to himself. Ecstatically, Blondie yelled in delight. He friend hit him on the back.

"Did you see that?" Blondie cried, grin so wide it looked like his face was going to split in half.

"With an aim like that," drawled Alex, making sure it was loud enough that they would hear him, "you could win a championship." Alex didn't even deny he took pleasure from the way the boy's face fell. He was a play ground bully. Or as the big blue bozo said, a sadist. Alex had laughed when he called him that. Said he didn't know Hank had such a kinky side. Worth it for the bright red blush that Alex could see through the fur.

"What's your bag man?" It was Blondie's friend who spoke. In his hand he was weighing up his darts. Alex wondered if he was planning on throwing one at him.

"Nothing, nothing." said Alex, holding his hands up in front of him, one side still clutching the beer. The movement caused some to spill out the top onto his hand. With his still dry hand, he took another puff from his smoke. His second one since he entered the bar. "But wouldn't you want to play with someone who could actually, you know, _play_?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, looking Alex up and down slowly. He could almost _see_ what he was thinking it was written so obviously on his face. _I could wipe the floor with him._ "And that would be you?"

Alex shrugged, taking a 'deep' gulp. It was his turn to weigh up the other man. Lazily, smirk on face. "You won't beat me."

Black hair snorted. "Sure." The blonde poked him in the side and whispered something into his ear like they were eight years old. Whatever he said, it caused them both to grin. "I'll play you."

Alex shook his head. "Would hate to embarrass you."

"You won't. Of course, if you're scared..."

Alex stood up straight, like the very suggestion was the most offensive thing he'd ever heard. He stumped his cigarette out on the table, another scorch mark joining the others. Taking another long swig, he moved forward. He pulled two of the darts out the wall, and another out the edge of the board. He moved so he stood next to his opponent.

"301?"

The preppy kid went first. As he shot his first three Alex realised he was good. Blondie was on the black board, subtracting the numbers faster than he could of dreamed off. Alex lost the first game. Badly.

The blonde laughed, head thrown back. Alex glared at him. He had still done better than him. As Alex went forward to collect his darts, he spoke. Confident and cocky, he hardly had to fake it. "I'm just warming up. Give me another go!"

Black hair rolled his eyes, but agreed.  Again, they threw the darts. Alex only managed marginally better this time.  

"Third time lucky?" Alex asked, still oozing that rash confidence, but adding a slight hint of desperation. The preppy shook his head.

"Sorry, I've finished my drink."

Bingo. Alex slapped a $5 note on the table. A ridiculous amount for just one drink, but he wanted to give the impression that money was not a problem. "I'll pay for it if you win. And if I win - "

"I'll buy you one." He finished. He looked at his friend. A silent conversation passed between them. The kind only family, lovers and telepaths could do. Alex could only remember having experience with the last one. The guy nodded. "OK." He slapped his own $5 on the table.

They shot again. He ended on a triple twenty. He groaned to himself. "I missed the bullseye." He complained, as the preppy stared at him in surprise. "But I did just score out." He snatched up the $10 on the table. The college kid scowled, no doubt annoyed he lost to a guy like Alex. He slapped down another $10 on the table.

"Lucky shot." He grunted. He took the bait.

"Well I do feel _lucky_ now. Another five?" $30 lay on the table. Alex again won. His throws seemed so random and unskilled that no one could accuse him of anyone. 

"I hate luck." The kid muttered as he stalked to the bar with his friend to get another drink.

Alex pocketed the money and waited for his next opponent. It turned out a lot of college kids felt like they had something to prove by going against a nobody like him. Who would of known? He didn't win every game - after all he didn't want a bunch of preppies trying to beat him up. And he quit while he was ahead. But he still had enough money to get completely drunk, have a place to crash for the next week _and_ keep the car running. And to think, two days ago he was considering going to college and getting a real job.

As he walked to the bar to buy a beer with his hard earned cash, he noticed the bored brunette from when he walked in. Up close she was even more beautiful. Beehive hair and big blue eyes that Alex felt himself sinking into. As he looked at her, he found himself completely lost for words.

Raven was always telling them stories about how Charles used his mind reading powers to get girls into bed. Alex found it hard to imagine a time when the man didn't whittle away the days drunk, slurring about how homo superias and homo sapiens could be friends.

Alex's power couldn't be used to attracted girls. In fact, blowing a building to hell and back did the exact opposite. Mutants like him had to use their good looks and their social skills. Sadly spending your prime dating years in a prison meant Alex was missing the second one. The first one, however, was on his side, and he only had to smile to get them interested. The Brunette giggled when she saw him looking, then moved towards him.

"You wiped the floor with them dicks." She said in a way of greeting. She reminded him of Raven. Spoke her mind. Not blue though - as far as Alex was aware. If he was lucky, she would be as flexible as her.

"Have you been watching me?" Alex gave her a devil may care smile and she fluttered her eyelashes.

"Maybe." She whispered it, meaning he had to lean closer to hear. Her blue eyes beckoned him in. Really what was a guy to do?

He ordered himself a beer and another whatever the hell she wanted. Price didn't matter.

She was called Kathleen, though people she liked called her Kathy ("And you are most definitely in that category"). She was in secretary school, but really she wanted to go to new places and write about them. Alex being brought up in Hawaii was a bonus in her eyes, and they chatted about the island, him smoothly steering her away from the parts he did not want to talk about. Two drinks later she suggested they went somewhere more private.

"I got a room," Alex whispered in her ear. She smiled against his cheek. With his mind preoccupied with working out the best way to get her out that dress, it took him a minute to remember Scott. "Shit." He knew he should feel guilty. It had been hours since he left and he didn't even tell the kid where he was going. Instead he just felt annoyed that the kid was there in the first place. If he didn't score because of Scott...

Kathy pulled back, concern on her face. "What is it baby?"

Quickly Alex pulled out the first thing that came to mind. "My pads a mess."

Her frown deepened. Yeah, she wasn't buying that. "Look, if you got a wife I don't care. But I still live at home and my daddy will kill me if I brought back a boy."

Alex shook his head. "I aren't got a wife... but I've got a car."

It was a long shot, but she smiled. It made him weak in the knees and hard in other places. He couldn't wait to strip her down, see her body, all of it. _Taste_ her. He hadn't got lucky in - well it's been a while.

"Just let me freshen up." She slid out their little corner, leaving Alex to finish his beer on his own.

It took ten minutes for him to realise she wasn't coming back and a commissary drink to realise she took half his cash. Fucking girls... He looked around for her, but she had already disappeared. He was angry, but not at her. At himself. Rookie mistake. He had another pint, glaring at anyone who dared come too close to him.

Too drunk to drive but too sober not to care, Alex walked back. Using one of the dollar she hadn't managed to take, he brought a six pack on the way back. The man behind the till of the twenty-four hour store was enough of a asshole to ask for ID. As Alex routed around his wallet to find his fake driving license - _only_ license - he wondered if it would be easier just to blast this place to rubble. He found it before his anger was high enough to set his power off, and he unfolded and all but shoved it in the man's face.

He found a bench once he left the shop and systemically drank the six pack. Once he finished a can, he threw it down the street. He had a mutant metabolism, to get as drunk as he wanted to get he had to _really_ drink. In between sips, he smoked, wishing he had something stronger.

Alex had thought he was so smart. Tricking those kids out of daddy's money. They were naive little children who didn't know a fucking _thing_ about the world. If they lived his life - but he wasn't much better. A suggestive smile from an average girl and he would just throw his money away. She was probably laughing at him right now. Probably fucking another man that wasn't such a sad loser like him.

Alex jumped up. He paced. His power sung under his skin. He wanted to burn this fucking town to the ground. He began to feel himself glow. Growling, he spun around. His fist connected with a wall and he screamed. Probably broken. Alex, the angry kid, the _replacement_ , who could never live up to their perfect child, just broke his own fucking hand. Of course he did. He always got in to trouble. He punched it again and again and again. Blood flowed from it. He didn't feel better. Then he lifted his hand up, blowing a bin across the street with a burst of his power. Rubbish tumbled across the road, joining his empty cans.

_What did you achieve with that?_ He thought to himself coldly as he watched the bin smoulder. His hand was numb. He couldn't move it. He took another puff of his cigarette. The world swung around him. He wanted to fly away. Just go. Why the fuck didn't he have wings like Angel? No, he got the amazing power of being able to kill people without meaning to. And he was here, while people like Darwin, _good_ people were dead. The world didn't need a screw up like him.

Alex began to stumble his way back. No cars, the only lights dancing from the windows in the corner of his vision. Making him feel sick. The motel room Alex picked from them didn't have any fancy neon lettering. Just a good old wooden sign. That was swaying damn too much. Or was that him? He threw up under it. Acid and alcohol. He didn't feel better.

Was this even his motel? He didn't know. That looked like his car out the front. Wait. Wasn't that back at the bar? He didn't care.

He went inside. Lights blinded him as he went past reception. It took a while for his eyes to focus on the small metal numbers printed on the doors so he could find his room. They should make them bigger. They should -

This wasn't his room. He was in fourteen, not ten. He took the key out the lock. Stumbling over his own feet as he carried on down the corridor. This one opened as first time when Alex managed to get the damn key in. They should make them bigger as well.

He flicked on the light, illuminating the basic room. The bed closest to the bathroom had a bump in it. No doubt his young passenger.

"Hey Scottie!" Alex slurred out. Too loudly for this time of night. The neighbours might complain. He didn't care. The lump on the bed visibly stiffened, but said nothing. "I know you're awake."

He staggered forward, cursing as he slammed his foot into his bed frame. It shook. The figure on the bed flinched. Alex should care about that. Instead he laughed. What did it matter if the kid ran off? What gave a fuck? He should be alone. He should be -

He flopped down onto the bed, hitting the uncomfortable mattress. Pressure on his bladder told him he needed to piss, but now he was lying down he found he couldn't get up. His bloodied right hand lay on the bed beside him, his left began searching through his pockets. He found his cigarette packet already half empty. Still lying down, Alex placed one between his lips. It took him even longer to find his matches and even longer still to light it. By the time he managed to take a drag his bed was littered with burnt ends and scorch marks.

Awkwardly, using only his feet, Alex pushed himself up the bed. Like a worm or something. Once he was leaning against the headboard, he turned towards Scott. The boy was now sitting up, legs drawn to his chest, and doing his equivalent of watching him warily. Alex wanted to pick at the tape. See what colour his eyes was and what they would do to him. He had worn Alex's jumper to bed, and was now chewing at the end of the sleeve.

Alex threw the cigarette packet. Amazingly, it hit the kid's shoulder. While he was aiming for the head, he had to admit it was better than his normal drunken throws.

"Take one of those so you don't eat my whole jumper."

The sleeve quickly dropped from Scott's mouth like it burnt him. Alex laughed. The kid was shaking like a leaf as he too placed one between his lips. For a moment he just sat there sucking it. Alex wanted to scream. How could someone be so fucking incompetent?   

"Are you going to light it?"

The kid froze. Then he raised a shaking arm and took the smoke out. "I - ummm - don't have matches..." He said it in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Alex took drag to calm his annoyance. When that didn't work he took another. 

"Kid," Alex tried, putting on his I'm-a-responsible-parent-voice that might of actually worked if he wasn't trying his best not to slur and completely failing. " _Scott_. Next time you have a cig and nothing to light it with, just fucking tell me! I'm not gonna get fucking mad and hit you or something!" He was aware how contradictory that sounded with his raised voice but the damn kid wasn't making it easy.

"Yes." The kid said. The jumper was brought up to his mouth again, but the move was aborted before it was put in. The cig replaced it. _Good boy: smoke not chew._

"You're not going to obey that are you?" Scott said nothing which Alex took to mean of course he wasn't. He needed a personality implant before he could ask for what he fucking needed. Alex threw the matches. They landed on the blanket next to his foot. With mild disinterest he watched the kid light up. It took him almost as much tries as Alex did he was shaking so much."This is so fucked up," he muttered, more to himself than the kid, before lapsing into silence.

He began running his fingers up and down his leg in abstract patterns. He tried closing his eyes, but all he saw was Darwin and flames and red, so he opened them again. Even a skuzzy hotel room was better than that.

"Why are you still here?" He blurted out with. Scott jumped and Alex wondered how long they had just been sitting there. Time didn't matter much anymore.

"W-what?"

"I said why are you still here? In this shitty hotel room? With _me_? I'm clearly not guardian material! And you're pissing yourself right now! So why don't you fucking leave? I won't stop you."

Scott's face didn't change as Alex yelled. He just took a lung full of nicotine. Then another and another. In till it was down to the end, and he couldn't smoke more without burning his fingers. He seemed at loose with what to do with it, before he flicked in the floor. Just like Alex did minutes before. This motel was going to be burnt to the ground. He couldn't find the energy to care. All he wanted to do was find out what the hell Scott was going to say.

"You seem like an ... OK guy."

Alex laughed, cold and hard and loud. _OK guy?_ They met in prison! Scott never even asked what he did to get himself in there! He could be a mass murder. "Kid, you don't know me at all, but let me tell you : I am not a good man."

Scott bit his lip. "I haven't - " He swallowed. "You haven't hurt me yet. And - " Another swallow. " - and - well... _I'm_ not a good man either."

Alex never thought of that. Self-centred, Bozo would say. He never asked Scott what he did to get himself on the wrong side of the law. He just assumed he was a mutant running away from another shitty foster home. The police didn't need more of a reason than that. Maybe whatever power was behind that blindfold was just as bad as his. Maybe he too - _pull yourself together Alex, the kid isn't some parallel to you._

"On that first night, why did you come with me? Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to come into my car?" _Didn't your mommy teach you never to get into a stranger's car?_ Oh yeah, his mom was dead, just like Alex's. But he wouldn't of got into the car. And he didn't have bruises on his neck to remind him the human-mutant race was a load of assholes.

"Your name." Scott finally said. Alex's eyebrows drew together.

"My name? _Alex?_ "He couldn't see why his first name - and it was a damn popular first name at that - could mean anything important at all. "Why's that?"

The boy shook his head. It was comforting, to know the kid wouldn't answer everything he asked. Then again, he might not be able to remember. "It's just very special."

Alex lay back on his bed, giggling slightly. "The one thing I'm not is special."

Special powers. Special classes. Special shut the hell up.

He thought that was the longest conversation he had with the kid. And he spent most of it yelling. He was beginning to feel bad about it. The kind that ate at your stomach like acid. The kind Alex spent his whole life trying to not feel. But it didn't stay long. A more pressing matter pushed its way into his brain : did he, or did he not, have enough energy to go to the toilet? Before he worked out the answer, he passed out.

*

Alex woke to a dry mouth and a pounding headache.

Groaning, he opened his eyes. His lids seemed to stick together. It was not dark enough. But the curtains were drawn and the lights were out. From the way he'd woken in a cheap motel and not surrounded by topless chicks in a drug fuelled love in, Alex guessed he had a bad night.

He smelt sick. Faint, but there. He could taste it as well, in his mouth. It made him want to throw up again. Someone must of cleaned it up while he was passed out. Not Sean, not the Blandings, maybe Hayley - no he wasn't at home. _Scott._ Scott must of cleaned him up. Of course, the kid probably never got the 'you brought this onto yourself so you're going to wake up in your own vomit' treatment. A rather hypocritical view, he always thought, seeing as Joanna Blanding couldn't get through a day without at least a whole bottle of wine.

Though, it was probably more because of the smell. Scott was all but confined to this room. Then it stuck him - the kid wasn't here. Shit, he probably ran off. Alex tried to remember what he said last night, but he could only remember the briefest of flashes. Like his name. His name was special. He didn't know why. He didn't even know who told him that.

Slowly, Alex rose to sitting. He felt like shit. As he moved, his felt ill. Why did he drink so much last night? Oh, right, a girl. He staggered out his bed, all but running to the bathroom. He reached the toilet and empty his guts into it. Just bile. Stringy, acidic bile. His aim was off slightly. He was glad it was somebody else's job to clean it up. He lay his head on the cool toilet seat. It didn't help.

Once he was sure he was done, he staggered back to bed. He collapsed on it. He waited till the world stopped spinning and his stomach stopped rolling, before realising it wouldn't. He went back to sleep.

The second time Alex woke he felt better. Even so, it took him a while to peel himself out of bed. With tired eyes he looked around the room and - someone was there.

They were standing by the window, looking out. Wait, no. Scott couldn't look out.

"You weren't here the first time I woke up." His throat ached. Like someone took sand paper to it. It hurt to talk at even normal volume. But Scott still jumped. Something fell from his fingers. He didn't pick it up, just turned so he was facing him. Alex was glad the boy only spoke in soft tones.

"I - I paid for another night. The manager came knocking and - sorry, I took your money."

Alex shook his head, regretting it immediately. Bad idea, it made him still feel slightly sick. "You did good. I'm not up to driving today." From the way his right hand stung - and looked - he wasn't sure he would ever be able to drive again.

Awkwardly Scott nodded his head, taking the compliment. He bent down and picked up whatever he dropped before. A key. Maybe he was still planning on leaving. Biting his lip, Alex decided he wouldn't lose anything by asking.

"Did I say anything to you last night?"

Scott cocked his head to the side. "You said a lot of things."

Alex wanted to scream. Maybe if drunk him didn't tell the kid he was infuriating, sober him might have to. "I mean, was I rude or mean?"

He still looked confused. "You didn't hurt me."

That wasn't exactly what Alex asked. Then again, maybe that was all the kid could understand. "Ok. Good."

Alex rolled out of bed, stretching his aching muscles. He still smelt like sick. He needed a shower and his hand bandaged and coffee. In that order. He moved towards the shower, towel and a bar of soap in hand. "When I get out we'll go get food."

Even with them covered, Alex saw his eyes light up. "Cheese burgers?"

The thought of processed meat and cheese made his stomach flip. But Scott had a near addiction to them, so Alex smiled.

"Sure kid. We can get cheese burgers."

*

Alex was feeling guilty.

He knew he shouldn't. After everything he'd done, why was this making him uncomfortable. It was a nice thing! Of course, Scott probably wouldn't see it that way. Then again, the kid didn't really understand 'nice things'.

But from the moment he had seen the battered black and white advertisements, he knew he had to go. He'd even ripped one of the fliers down and got the local shop keep to scrawl down instructions on the back. The only problem was he didn't know how to announce it to Scott. He seemed to prefer sitting in a motel room doing nothing, or sitting outside in the sun doing nothing. If Alex lived like that he would of blown something up due to boredom, but the kid had a self control that he would never be able to master.

So, after a night of deliberation, Alex decided the best way to break the news was when they were already there so Scott had no choice. He was going to enjoy himself damn it!

After only ten minutes of driving they were there. As he threaded his way through the lines of cars, Scott cocked his head to one side.

"We're parking. Why?" One day he was going to find out how the boy seemed to know everything when he couldn't see.

"Hmmm?" He answered as he slipped into a space. Scott frowned, and Alex's face broke out into a grin. "It's a surprise!"

Scott's jaw locked and even through the tape _and_  sunglasses, he could feel the glare. "I don't like surprises. Why?"

The kid was a whinny little bitch, and as stubborn as they came. But Alex preferred that to the other one. The one that stuttered and disappeared into the décor. In fact, he actively encouraged the bitchy behaviour. The rules were simple : if you put up a fight, you get your way. The exact opposite of what everyone else would want. Sometimes, Alex didn't want it either.

He sighed, turning off the engine. The singer on the radio was cut off midline. "We're at a fun fair!" He said it with a cheer. Scott didn't catch it.

"Why?"

"To go on rides! To eat candyfloss! To have _fun_! You do know what fun is, right?"

Scott scowled, pushing the glasses up his nose. "I know what fun is!"

"Then prove it." The one thing the kid couldn't resist was a challenge. Alex slid out the car, slamming the door behind him. The tarp over the window shook but stayed on. He needed to fix that. After a second, Scott emerged, still scowling. He trailed around the car to him, one hand on the metal to guide him. A grin stretched over Alex's face. His hand reached forward, but stopped before it ruffled the kid's hair. Sure, they were getting closer, but he would probably have a heart attack if he received an affectionate gesture.

The floor was muddy, the damp grass from the night before already churned up by feet and cars. Too early for teenagers, most of the punters were families. Little girls swinging on their dads' arms, boys running around excitably ignoring their mothers' cries to slow down. Looking at them caused a pang deep in Alex's stomach. He didn't have any memories of going to a fairground with his family. His _real_ family, that was. Not that it meant they hadn't gone, just that he was too young to remember. He glanced at Scott, who had one hand on his arm to guide himself. Had he ever been to a fair before? Had his parents taken him? Hell, he didn't even know if the kid knew his family.

He pushed all those thoughts down. They were meant to be having fun, not crying over a past they couldn't change. He plastered a grin on his face as they walked through the main 'gates'. The first ride that greeted them was a giant Ferris wheel. His fake grin transformed into a real one.

"Let's go on that one!" He cried, sounding like a little kid. He moved forward, Scott having to hurry his steps to not lose him. They got bumped in the crowd, but not enough for him to worry about the kid next to him. They were funnelled into a short line.

"You always go on the Ferris wheel first." Alex explained to Scott as they waited.

"Why?" Yeah, the kid definitely hadn't been to a fair before.

"So you can see everything! You base your whole day off one spin!" Scott tapped his glasses, and Alex immediately felt guilty. Way to rub it in his face. "I can plan the day for both of us. You can just... feel the wind in your hair."

"So, what is a Ferris wheel?" Alex looked up at the towering ride in front of him. They were nearly at the start of the queue.

"It's a big circle," he tried to explain. Xavier would just be able to project an image into the boy's mind. He only had words, and he hadn't even finished High School English. "And you sit on the seats, and it takes you up to the top, and then you come back down again."

Scott didn't look very impressed, but it was too late to back out now : the bench had arrived at the bottom. Alex paid the man, and him and Scott moved forward. The people before jumped off. Before Scott got on, he felt the red painted bench with his hands. It had confused Alex at first, but now he realised it was a way of making sure there was something behind him. The assistant placed the bar down. Scott grabbed it, but Alex went non-handed.

Then they were off. Eagerly Alex looked around. He picked out the candyfloss stand first. The people, now mere ants, scurried around it, multicoloured whipped sugar clutched in their hands. Then he looked at the rides. A carousel! Tilt-A-Whirl! Was that even a Whip? And, best of all, Bumper Cars! Everything you wanted to do in your real car and couldn't. At the furthest edge of the fair, he saw a ride he had never seen before. Squinting his eyes, he tried to get a better look but Scott fidgeting next to him distracted him. One of his hands held his glasses, his hair twirling in the breeze like it had a mind of his own.

"What's wrong?" If the kid was going to throw up, Alex wanted to know before any of it hit him. They only just had a laundry day.

"You didn't say it would be so _slow_."

Alex laughed. "I didn't know you were such a speed-demon."

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "M'not. It's just this is _really_ slow. I thought fairs were meanna be, I dunno, scary."

"So the carousel is out?"

Scott pulled a face. "That's for little kids." Then he swallowed nervously. "Unless, um, you want to go on it."

Alex rolled his eyes. Suck up. Scaredy-cat. "Nah, the carousel is for little kids."

He thought he saw Scott smile at that. Now all Alex had to work on was changing 'thought' into 'one hundred and ten percent confident'.

They reached the bottom, and hopped off. Scott thanked the man who lifted the bar up for them while Alex checked out the girls who were going on next. Definitely on the high school cheering team.

They moved on, past the carousel that fake horses were dancing around on, painted eyes following Alex accusingly. _Sorry_ he thought their way as they went to search for a faster ride. They past the Rotor but Alex quickly hurried past before Scott could ask about the screaming. It didn't seem right to be pushed against a ride while the floor drops. No sir. Instead he guided Scott to The Whip. Again, he paid the man and they sat down. He noticed with a gulp that the ride's bar didn't have a locking system.

As the ride turned the corner, Alex found himself crashing into Scott. Instead of cringing as he normally would, he just got his own back at the next one, sliding into Alex. He really was all bones.

Next they went on a Tilt-A-Whirl. By the time the twisting and turning ended, Alex felt like he was going to throw up. Scott, on the other hand, seemed only more excited. He was really grinning. After a couple more rides, Alex couldn't take anymore. He suggested getting some candyfloss.

"What's candyfloss?"

Alex rolled his eyes and all but dragged the kid to the stall. Doesn't even know what candy floss is! He tapped his foot impatiently as the red and white stripped man spun the sugar into wisps. Next to him, Scott waited eagerly. Once it was done, Alex shoved the stick into the kid's hand. He watched with amusement as Scott tried to work it out.

He felt it with his free hand, softly pressing it in. Then he dug his fingers in and pulled out a large wad, shoving it in his mouth.

"It dissolves!"  he cried, like it was the best discovery of the century. Eagerly, he took another large handful.

"Give me some then." Scott, as protective as ever with his food, hesitated. Then he held it out. Alex grabbed at the wisps. As it dissolved in his mouth, he found himself sharing the boy's enthusiasm. It was better than he remembered. Together it only took seconds for the pink cloud of sugar to be reduced to a wooden stick.

"Let's get some hot dogs!"

After they finished their snack, they went on to the Bumper Cars. Since the Ferris Wheel, this was the first time Alex had more fun than Scott. Every hit the kid tensed up, while he whooped excitably. Scott at one point even suggested "driving around nicely" at one point.

"If I wanted to drive nicely," Alex yelled back, "I would drive on the roads."

"You don't drive nicely on the roads either."

Alex responded by crashing his car into one filled with ten year old boys. As he did, Scott's glasses fell of his face. The other man laughed in delight. The kid managed to get his own back though. The worst part was he didn't even know it.

They got to the last ride of the fairground. A large metal structure that had arms that spun punters _upside down_ , using a system of weights that someone like Hank could understand and someone like Alex didn't have a hope in hell of. But that wasn't what froze his stomach over. It was the name.

Loop-O-Plane.

Who would name a ride something like that? Maybe most people didn't get into plane crash their whole lives, but Alex had already been in two and he was only nineteen! And bad things came in threes. He could already see the car coming off, him inside it.

He wouldn't of mentioned the ride at all if he knew the name, but how the hell was he supposed to know! That cars didn't look like planes. Bright red cages of death. But he already paid the money. He tried not to look at the ride but instead at Scott, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wide grin on his face. Damn, Alex couldn't ruin his day by backing out... or could he? Someone else could ride with Scott. A complete stranger. In a tiny cage. And if anything happened Alex could do nothing about it.

He took a deep breath to oxygenate his blood and calm his nerves. It was going to be OK. It wasn't even a _real_ plane.

"Are you OK, son?" Alex looked up at the concerned voice. It came from a large, old man wearing the classic clothes of a fair worker. Crap, it was time to get on the ride. "You looked freaked."

Alex shrugged, going for nonchalance as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. "That's what I'm here for."

The man gave him a soft smile, before leading Scott and him over to the car. Up close, he could see it really was only a cage. The door was open. Scott slid in first, feeling the way with his hands.

"You might want to take your shades off" Scott blushed at the old man's words. Quickly he pulled them off. The duct tape was thick, and Alex was sure the boy had added more layers. He couldn't see the way the man's eyes widened when he saw it but Alex could. He smiled uncomfortably at him.

"I can look after them 'till the end of the ride. You wouldn't want to lose them." Scott was reluctant to give away something that was his.

"It's alright Scottie." Alex said, and was amazed at the kid's trust in him. The moment he reassured him, he gave the glasses over to the man, who slipped them into his pocket. As he pulled the metal bar over their thighs, he lent in close and softly said to Alex :

"It's nice that you're doing this for him. Most kids like him don't get that."

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't know what. And then he was gone, off to help the next costumers into the car beside them. He was still trying to process it when a more pressing matter came to light : where they only held in by a bar that's slotted through a hole in the door? This ride goes upside down! Even the Blackbird has more safety features than this and it was made to fly in a straight line!

Another deep breath. His feet fitted comfortably in the foot hold. He was OK. This was going to be OK. The only thing remotely like a plane was -  

It began to swing. Alex clutched the bar, wincing as he tightened the damaged hand. The exact opposite from the Ferris Wheel. It began slowly, picking up speed with each arch. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and -

All the way over.

For a second they were held upside down. Alex could imagine himself plummeting to the ground, head first. A short fall. No parachute. No flames. No older sister to hold him.

It swung down. Air hit his face. Loop. Again. Again. Slowing down. And now he could breathe again. Nearly done. Finally it was finished. Weakly, Alex turned to Scott. The layers of tape seemed to contradict the wide grin on his face.

"That was a blast."

Alex tried to smile back. That was about as far from a blast as possible. The man came up. The moment the bar was freed, Alex jumped out. Never again. The fair worker gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. Then he held out Scott's glasses. Alex took them, handing them to the boy. He put them on, giving the man a thank you.

As they walked off the metal floor and away from the ride, Scott was almost dancing. The rush from the ride had loosened him up. For the first time he was standing up straight. He was taller than Alex thought, but still smaller than a normal boy of whatever his age was should be. 

"I just - it was - wow. I never been on a ride like that before. We went upside down! And the way it just held there! It was a blast. I'm thinking - I mean if you wanna - can we go again? Only if you want to."

Alex bit his lip. He didn't want to burst the kids bubble. This was probably the only time he was ever going to see the kid like this. But he couldn't go on that ride again. Twice was just daring fate. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of lose change.

"You go on it again kid." Scott's face fell. Shit, exactly what he was trying to avoid. "Look the ride isn't for me but you love it." He placed the quarters in Scott's hand, and closed this fist around it. He nodded to him.

"If - if you're sure."

_The money or the ride?_ The answer was the same for both. "Course I am."

Scott began to retrace their steps with a scary amount of accuracy. He bumped into a couple of people, but otherwise he was fine. How did he stay so sure of the direction he was facing? And he must always be counting his steps.

"And ask the man to give you a car on your own!" He yelled after him, causing several people to turn around and face him. Scott was not one of those people, but Alex was sure he heard him. Hell, the kind man himself probably heard. Alex couldn't say why he was so against Scott sharing a car with a stranger so much. Maybe it was the same reason a pool of worry was growing in his gut as the boy walked away.

He looked around, trying to find something to do that didn't involve watching Scott go around and around in those fake planes. His eyes found the candy floss stall and stepped forward. Then they caught the shooting range.

It was a basic. An air rifle was strapped to the wooden counter. Around it hung all kinds of stuffed animals. Sean taught him how to shot a shotgun. How an Irishman knew how to shoot a gun better than a full-bloodied American like him was anyone's guess. That with his excellent hand eye coordination, he stood a good chance.

He changed his course and paid his money. The air rifle was lighter than he expected and he took a moment to weigh it up. Then he lifted it up, looking through the scope. He was aiming at the little people. If they were hit by the bullet, they would fall backwards. The rules were simple : if he hit zero to one, no prize; two, a lollipop; three, a low level cuddly two; four (keeping in mind that he only had three pellets), a high level cuddly toy.

His first three shots landed him in the zero to one range, though he was proud to note he was on the higher end. All his shots went higher than he expected. He compensated for it on his second round, this time winning a lollipop. Quickly he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. Fuelled by the fake strawberry sugar taste he tried again. This time he hit three. He was becoming like Scott and his damn Loop-O-Plane. It was only when the skinny teen behind the counter asked him to pick a toy did Alex's grin fade. He didn't want a cuddly teddy bear. But the teen crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

"It's company policy." He squeaked out. His non-dropped balls clashing with his superior nature he was trying to put on. "You have to take one. Give it to a girl. Give it to someone else's girl. Give it to someone else's girl's sister. I don't care what you do with it, just take one."

Looking at all the small toys on offer, Alex was suddenly struck by the idea to give one to Scott. After all, if the kid hadn't been to the fair, he probably never had a teddy bear either. He looked through them, grinning as the teen sighed because he was taking so long to chose. Finally he settled on a grey wolf. It was fluffy, and could easily fit in the palm of his hand. While it didn't look threatening, its presence may still give Scott strength. "That one."

The teen pulled it off the rack. "Good choice. I love huskies."

Alex blinked at him. "It's a grey wolf."

"Nope. It's a husky." He gave it to Alex, who looked at it closer. Then he realised how futile it was. He'd never seen a grey Alaskan wolf nor a husky. All of his knowledge of wildlife involved the hot island of Hawaii. Except, of course, the Great Moose.

"Thanks for the _wolf_." Alex said as he walked off. The teen was already on the next costumer, and unlikely to of heard him. At least he got the last word. He made his way towards the Loop-O-Plane. He kept fiddling with the toy in his hands, feeling uncomfortable. What if Scott was offended by it? After all the kid could quite possibly be fifteen! If someone gave him a cuddly toy at fifteen he wouldn't exactly be happy about it.

Scott was waiting for him beside the side of the ride. A big grin on his face told Alex he'd only been off for a minute or two. He strolled towards him.

"Had fun kid?" No jump, no flinch. Just a wide grin and a nod. Who knew it would take the kid a dose of adrenaline to act like a normally human being?

"Uh-huh. I went on it two times! What did you do?"

Now or never. He held up the wolf. "I won a prize for you."

"Why?" Well, he said a normal human being, but at the end of the day the kid was still a mutant. And mutants had suspicion flowing through them with their blood.

"Believe me when I said I didn't have much of a choice."

Scott frowned in confusion. He opened his mouth, but Alex shoved the toy in the boy's hands. Scott clutched it. Slowly he pushed it against his face, nose screwing up as the fur tickled his nostrils. Abruptly he pushed it away from him.

"Am I too old to have a toy?" Alex could see he wanted to be told 'no'.

"I have a teddy bear."

"You do?" Damn, how could his voice sound so hopeful?

"Uh-huh."

Scott stroked the wolf, a slight smile on his face. "What did you call it?"

"I didn't name it. Hayley - my adopted sister - brought it for me when I got arrested once."

"What did she name it?"

Alex laughed. "Mr. Fire Starter."

Scott frowned. "Right... Is that like, y'know, what you do?"

Had they really never talked about their powers? "Yeah. I'm an energy converter. I take in cosmic rays and produce plasma. So in English : I blow things up."

Scott shuffled. "Can you... control it?"

"Kind of. But it's always their under the surface, ready to explode out. If I stop paying attention for a moment, people get hurt." He closed his eyes, Darwin's face behind his lids.

Scott taped his glasses. "I can't control it either." Then he looked down at the wolf, grinning. "I need to think what to call him."

*

Alex said they would spend the night in the next town. His right hand was still too sore to be used for long periods on the gear stick.

The town - or maybe small city, it was hard to tell from the outskirts - had a motel on the road into town. It wasn't the best looking place. Most probably pay by the hour. But his hand hurt too much for him to find anywhere better. They slipped into the car park, and Alex pulled his rucksack out the back. He pulled the amount he expected this place to cost, stuffing it into his jean pocket, before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Together him and Scott shuffled into reception.

The grimy state of it didn't give Alex much hope for the sleeping areas. The man behind the counter was disgusting as the room. Tank top was sweat stained, and a cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth. He was flicking through a magazine, and when Alex coughed to get his attention, he got a glare from him that nearly made him take a step back. But Alex had been faced with hundreds of nuclear war heads, he wasn't going to be intimidated by a grouchy receptionist.

"Double single. For the night." The man looked Alex up and down before looking past him and doing the same to Scott. When he turned back to Alex he was smirking.

"Don't have to have that pretence here. We all know what you're going to do."

Alex frowned at his leery smile. Creep. But what was more unsettling was idea that every place they had stayed in had thought the same thing.

"Double single." He repeated. The man behind the desk didn't seem to get it.

"How much you payin' for her?" he asked. He looked at Scott again, and Alex was glad the kid was blind so he couldn't see the look in the man's eyes. "Sure, she's young, but don't let her rob you. Girls down New Street are younger, and won't charge you a cent over $25."

Alex could feel his power humming. This man was sick. People like him deserved to be vaporised. His hands tightened in fists, not even the pain letting him think straight. Scott, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the whole ordeal. He just stood there letting this slimy old man talk about him like he was a female prostitute.

"She's pretty, I'll give you that." He carried on. "Shame she's wearing those glasses. Hey girlie, come closer so I can have a proper look at you."

Scott flinched at that. Alex slammed his fist on the table. He flinched at that as well. He wanted to punch the guy. His whole body screamed for it. But the Professor's voice in his mind kept him at bay. A smooth, British accented voice that told him to keep control. Through gritted teeth, Alex spat out :

"Are you going to give us a room or should we go somewhere else?"

The man, finally working out that he should shut his mouth about Scott, told him the price. Money was exchanged in a stony silence. But the man couldn't help himself. As Alex and Scott walked down the corridor he yelled after them. "Tell me if she's any good!"

That was it.

Alex's power screamed. He swung around. Didn't even have time to channel them. He just exploded. He felt empty once he released. He felt even worse when he opened his eyes and saw what he had done.

" _Shit._ " That didn't cover it, not by a long shot, but it would have to do. Flames were covering everything, the ceiling fallen in. He took a step towards his destruction to - to what? See if the man was OK? He deserved this. He was a sick-o. Just like - no, he couldn't think about that.

Voices. People heard. The police will come. Alex didn't want to go back to prison. And Scott -

Scott!

Alex quickly looked around. He'd pushed himself against the wall. Head in hands, curled up. Shit. This was not a good time for Scott to be, well, _Scott_.

He ran towards him, grabbing the kid's arm. Alex thought the kid would fight him, but he just let himself be dragged along. Past the flames. Out the destroyed front doors. Into the car. Fucking piece of junk. Don't stall! Sirens. Reverse. Hit the pedal. Police cars. Act natural. Drive. Open road. Home free. Only they didn't have a home.

When Alex was sure they weren't being followed, he slowed down and turned to Scott. The kid had his knees pulled up to his chest, wolf clutched in one of his hands, looking blank.

"He deserved it." Even as the words came out, Alex knew he wasn't saying it reassure Scott but rather himself. "He was a fucking sick-o."

He expected Scott to say something. Maybe not a thank you but at least some acknowledgement that he was a fucked up man. But Scott's face was as empty as when the guy was saying those things. Why wasn't he fucking angry? Alex had knocked out people who had said things that wasn't nearly half as bad to him. He wanted the kid to act like a normal person. To know he can be angry and loose some fucking control once and a while.

"He thought you were a prostitute. He thought you were a _girl_!"

"Most - most people do." Not the screaming Alex was looking for. Just resigned misery. He laughed. And then he thought about it. Looked at the kid. Really looked. He didn't look like a prostitute, that brought to mind women on street corners, arms full of track marks and skin on view with large boobs and butt. But for the girl thing, his face was rounder, lips more fuller, than an average boy's. And the long hair didn't help. If they hadn't met in a holding cell, Alex might of thought it too.

"That _fucker_."Alex carried on, opting to ignore the comment. "He deserves to be in prison. To rot in hell. To - " The fight drained out of him. It didn't matter. He was tired and he was running again. "I hope I didn't kill him."

It was barely more than a breath, but Scott heard it. He looked surprised, and Alex quickly backtracked. "Don't get me wrong. I hope he's injured. In hospital. A coma. The works. I just -"

" - Can't carry another dead man on your conscious."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence. The car ate up the road in front of him. So the kid understood. He wished he didn't feel so pleased. He finally found another mutant who got it. Charles, Sean, hell even Erik, the murder of the group, didn't get it. Even if you know they deserved it, it still eats away at your soul. Charles would say it made him a good man, Erik would say it made him weak.

Alex looked at Scott again. The bruises had faded slightly, but nobody would look at him and think he had lived a happy life. And he was still worryingly skinny. The cheeseburgers he ate like an addiction doing nothing to add any fat onto his bones. He always tried to take up as little space as possible. But Alex thought he was getting though. Sure, the kid wouldn't ask him to move if he parked on his foot, but sometimes he said a _whole_ sentence to him without sounding terrified.

"How old are you?" Alex didn't know why he was asking again. Maybe to prove or a point that Scott did trust him. Or maybe it was because that sick-o's obsession reopened his curiosity.

"Eighteen." He didn't even miss a beat. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Right. Sure."

His scathing words caused Scott's shoulders to hunch in even further, chewing his bottom lip. He thought for a second. "Fourteen. Fifteen. Maybe. I dunno. It's a blur. I look fifteen?"

Alex thought fifteen was pushing it, but it was a lot more likely than eighteen. He could just look young for his age, and the blindfold did hide much of his face. "What year were you born?"

Scott's jaw tightened. Alex knew what it said : _I can do maths. If I knew the year I was born I would know my age._ But Scott wasn't confident enough to say that yet. He tried to hunch some more. Probably his way of showing he was frustrated.

"It doesn't make sense. It's a blur." Clearly he thought that would end this conversation. Unfortunately all it did was pipe Alex's interest even more. He knew a date, though Alex couldn't work out why it wouldn't make sense.

"Tell me." He pushed.

Scott bit his lip again. The place it had been split when Alex had met him. The scab had fallen off, leaving a small white scar, which he now tugged at with his teeth. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. He pushed himself as close to the car door as he could. As far away from Alex as he could. "1942."

Alex snorted. Scott looked away, humiliated. "That would make you two years older than me. Trust me, you are not twenty-one." Rubbing salt into the wound.

"I told you it didn't make sense." Scott said with a sigh.

"Maybe it's someone else. Like a sibling."

Scott froze. Fox caught in the headlights. If Alex could see his eyes, he was sure they would be full of fear. His hands which had been playing with the toy froze. "I don't have a brother."

Alex could of pointed out he never mentioned a brother. That all Scott had done was make him more curious - and disbelieving. But he already knew what he would get if he pushed. The same tragic story. Hell, even he had a version of it. They're dead.

"Just a suggestion." He shrugged.

Scott said nothing more that night, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The next day though when Alex rose out of bed, he got a "good morning" like nothing had happened. Except Scott had never said a good morning to him before.

All that worry left Alex's mind when he pulled a district paper out the bin and saw the big black lettering of the headline.

**MAN HOSPITALISED DUE TO MUTANTS**

He felt lighter, not having to carry another on his conscience.

*

The night before, Alex managed to score a lot of money off a guy who wasn't too bad at darts. At one point Alex was sure he would come out worse and have to get the hell out of dodge. Of course, he blamed his poor performance on his hand, though it was only his little finger with reduced dexterity now. That wouldn't save him from the beating when they worked out he didn't have the bread they were playing for. But for once, lady luck was smiling down at him, and he managed to walk out the bar with his pockets full. He didn't even get side tracked by a girl.

Today, him and Scott was resting in a nice hotel room. It even had a TV. For a guy who couldn't see it, he loved it. Since Alex turned it on and managed to tune out the static, Scott had been glued to it. When Alex had pointed out that listening to the radio would be better the kid simply said it wasn't the same. Only later, when Alex had left to get a new window on the car, did he realise it was probably the first time Scott had been near a TV. Made him think he should of shelled out a few bucks more and got one in colour.

He had left the kid in front of it, expecting him to still be there when he got back. But when he entered the room, takeaway in hand, he saw he assumed wrong. The TV was off and -

And Scott was moaning like a girl from the bathroom. Alex just stood there for a second, blinking, before it got through his head that the boy was masturbating. He was surprised. He didn't quite know why. When he was Scott's age he practically lived with a hand down his pants. Much to the church and the Blanding's horror. Scott, though, he seemed above that kind of thing. A loud moan from the bathroom told him the kid really was not.

Suddenly, Alex realised he was just standing in the middle of the room like a pole, getting slightly hard because a teenage boy was getting himself off in the other room. He dropped the burgers and fled.

He walked around the block five times. Then five more. Maybe he was overdoing it, but the last thing he wanted was to experience that again. He couldn't get that moan out his face - it did sound extraordinarily feminine. And he thought it was bad when an off his face Sean had jerked himself off on _Alex's_ bed in Westchester. Of course, Sean's sonic scream told the whole state when he ejaculated. Actually, he didn't want of think of that either.

When Alex came back, Scott was in a less compromising position : head resting on his knees as he listened to the TV. Next to him was an empty burger wrapper. Alex's was waiting for him on his bed. Crap. Scott was not meant to know he heard. That would explain why the kid was making a point of not looking at him.

Sheepishly, Alex sat. Why did he feel so god damn awkward? He was a grown up. He knew people jerked off. He unwrapped the burger and took a large bite. As he chewed the bread and meat he tried to watch the TV but he couldn't focus on the grainy black and white picture.

"So," Alex tried, doing his best to seem casual, "Do anything good while I was gone." Shit. A red blush covered his cheeks. "I mean watch anything good. Umm... was the TV good?"

If it wasn't so embarrassing he would laugh. He sent out a psychic messaging begging Scott to change the subject. He seemed to receive them. As red as Alex felt, he stammered out, "G-good TV. Did you get a new window?"

Alex told him in minute detail about his trip to the local garage, including describing the road signs.

*

Alex was falling.

His sister's arms around him. A parachute burning above. Screaming. Mom. Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep. Don't -

He woke in a cold sweat. He always did. For a moment he just lay in the motel bed, looking at the ceiling. As cars passed the windows, lights trailed across the room, illuminating the bumpy plaster. Why did they do that? For decoration? Or was it simply because it was cheaper than paying someone who knew how to do it flat?

His heart beat began to slow. He rolled over, closing his eyes, pressing his face into the pillow. He didn't want to dream. He wanted the peaceful black. He didn't want to fall, or kill, or scream. He couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

Then he heard the whimpers. Quiet, just like everything Scott did. Even while having a nightmare, he made sure not to disturb anyone. Torn, Alex bit his lip, unsure whether to go over or not. Maybe Scott was like him, having nightmares every night. If he was always this quiet, it would make sense that Alex hadn't heard him before.

He crawled out of bed. In the dim light, he could only take small steps forward to make sure he wouldn't crash into anyone. The progress between the small gap in the beds were awkward and slow. Alex realised that this was what Scott must feel like all the time.

He kneeled beside Scott's bed, nearly face to face with the boy. He wasn't tossing and turning like Alex did when he had a nightmare. He was lying completely still, like a mannequin. Not even his lips moved as he emitted the pitiful whimpers.

"Scott," Alex hissed, gently. When he got no response, he tried again, louder. But the boy didn't come out of his slumber. Biting his lip, he weighed up whether what he was about to do was a good idea. Slowly he reached forward and touched his shoulder. When Scott's arm came up and flew towards him, he decided it was not. Luckily, Alex had been in Division X and could duck out the way in time.

"Hey, Scott. Relax. It's me : Alex." He tried to make it smoothing, but it came out as a wild hiss. It managed to stop to the boy though, and he sat up, frowning in confusion.

"Alex?" He asked. "What are you doing up? You should go back to bed before - " Then he cut off. His telling off voice - and that was exactly what it was, it even beat those from the teachers Alex had over the years - changed to his normal, quite one. "I'm sorry."

Alex shook his head. "You didn't wake me."

Scott's jaw locked into a 'I don't believe you' expression. He got that one a lot. While Scott stayed sitting up, he scooted backwards from Alex and leant against the wall. Clutched in his hand was the fluffy wolf. So much for Alex's theory of it keeping the bad things away.

"I was a having a nightmare too."

Scott turned to him with the same expression as he had before. Having a conversation with Scott used a lot more observing and brain power than what Alex was used to - and what he liked.

"Tonight, I dreamt I was falling. Down and down and down. And I'm not slowing down. Just going faster and faster and faster. And fire - fire is everywhere. Someone's screaming, _crying_ , and I think it's me and all I want is my mom. But she's - " His voice breaks. He's crying. He doesn't cry. But now he is, it doesn't seem to matter. He never told anyone this - not the consolers, not the social workers and definitely not the Blandings. It felt good to tell someone, even if it was just another fucked up kid whose dreams were plagued with past horrors too - or maybe that was the exact reason why.

"Some - sometimes I dream I'm falling too. It - it's just me and - it's just me. And I want to stop falling but I know - I know that things will be _worse_ when I hit the ground. And the nights I just fall are _good_ because - because _bad_ things are going to happen and there's pain. And I tell myself it's not real. It's not real, but I can feel the scars. And I can't remember it when I wake up. It... slides away. The details are a _mess._ My _head's_ a _mess_. At least I remember with - it's bad. Even if it makes me _bad_." Scott brought the wolf to his mouth, and began chewing its snout.

Alex felt like he should say something. This kid had bared his heart to him. Scott sniffed, and wiped his nose on the cuff of Alex's jumper. He wondered if the kid could cry with all that tape over his eyes. He could be drowning in his own tears and Alex would never know. He shifted on his knees.

"Want a cig?" He finally asked. Scott nodded.

"Y-yeah."

*

Alex shoved his head under the driving seat. Old beer cans and take away burger packets. Old sweat stained t-shirts. A pair of police issued handcuffs. But not his damn wash towels. He'd searched his car up and down, searched the motel room. There was only one thing left to do : ask Scott.

The kid was hoarder. His pockets were always stuffed full of lose change, food wrapped in paper tissues, cigarettes and useless knick knacks he found laying about. Everything he could ever possible need on his person at all times in case he had to run. A bit like an extreme version of Alex's car.

Normally Alex wouldn't have a problem marching into their shared room and demand him to give it back. He'd already had to do it to get one of his favourite tapes back. (It had turned out to be one of Scott's favourite too. Alex had a feeling Sean's sea shanty tape he swapped it for wasn't much of an exchange. Scott, of course, still excepted it.) But yesterday, the kid had been in pain. He insisted he was fine, but he could hardly walk across the room without groaning and folding into two. Even when Alex banished him to bed, he kept saying it was normal and it would go away on its own, that it always did. He refused to say anymore, not even what this _perfectly_ normal thing was.

Alex was terrified the kid had hurt himself and was afraid to tell him. Or this was a leftover aliment from when they had first met. But Alex couldn't march him down to a Doctor. They didn't have the money, and, though Alex often forgot, they were on the wrong side of the law.

Today Scott had seemed better. All the silent groans of pain from yesterday was gone. In fact, the only thing stopping Alex forgetting the whole thing was the unbuttoned flier and the occasional rubbing of his stomach. Even so, he had been put on bed rest.

Setting his face to Mr. Bad Guy, he marched back into their room. He almost faltered when the kid didn't even lift his head up as the door swung open. He hadn't even said anything yet but he already felt like a first class dick. Alex squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. Scott pulled himself up, slowly. He thought the whole thing would be made easier by the fact he couldn't see Scott's eyes. He was very wrong.

"Do you, uh, know where my wash towels have gone?"

"I thought you kept it in the bathroom?"

"Not my big one, my small ones."

"I don't know." He was lying. Alex could tell. He never had Scott down as a liar, he never thought the kid would have the guts.

"You're lying."

"I-I'm n- _not_." He was stuttering, barely able to get the words out. Alex took a step forward, and he didn't know how the hell the kid knew, but he flinched so hard the bed shook. But he didn't move to get away. Alex thought he should say something like 'I'm not going to hurt you' but all he could think was how he could use this fear to his advantage.

"Don't lie. Give. Them. Back." He paused, before doing what Alex said. His hand went to the opposite sleeve and pulled out one of the washcloths. He held it out and the older man snatched it out of his trembling fingers.

"I was gon-going to give it b-back." Alex snorted, dismissively. The washcloth was damp in his hands. When he looked down he saw the rough white surface had smears of pink across it. He knew what it was : blood. And a lot of it. Scott had clearly tried to wash it off the towel without much success. He should feel sympathy, but all he found was anger. Something was wrong and the kid wouldn't tell him. He held it up to Scott's face, a waste seeing as he was blind.

"What the fuck is this?"

The kid shrunk in on himself. Alex gritted his teeth. He needed to know if he was hurt or ill. Scott was his responsibility.

"What's wrong? Are you injured?" The boy shook his head. Alex carried on. Worry made his voice rise. "Have you hurt yourself? Have you fucking done something to himself?"

He'd seen it in juvie. People who couldn't take it and head butted walls in till their face bleed, or made knives and cut open their arms and legs, or hung themselves with their sheets. Crazy, the guards said as they let him punch himself dry in the cell, before he would collapse on the floor, exhausted.

"It's norm - "

" _Normal_!" He laughed over him. "I don't want to hear it. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you! I can't help if you insist everything is fine. There isn't a fucking fine bone in your body! You need to go to a hospital and get your head checked. Or to prison. Have you ever brought anything in your life? Or do you just steal it? Don't you think I haven't noticed everything of mine you've pinched! I don't know why the fuck I let you tag along!"

His power was burning. He was going to explode. He could hurt the kid. He could _kill_ the kid. He needed to leave. He needed to -

He threw the washcloth onto the bed. "Do what you want with it. Why the hell would I want it now?"

He turned on his heel. Walked out. Slamming the door so hard the walls shook. He began to run, trying to get as far away from people as possible.

Then he destroyed it all. A barn, a tree line, a field of corn. He yelled as he exploded. Out his chest, out his hands. The best damn firework in the whole collection. An atom bomb, vaporising everything. It took a second, maybe two. Then he was out of fuel.

He fell to his knees, head in hands and cried. Cried like when the social worker sat him down and told him his whole family was dead. Like when Hayley was in trouble and he exploded for the first time. Like when he killed Darwin and the others left him alone. He was in a sea of charred remains. One second and he destroyed  a farmers living. One second and he killed.

Finally he ran out of tears. He felt empty. All that rage that had been bubbling up under his skin since last time he released was gone. So why didn't he feel better? Each step he took out of the field felt heavier, like the gravity was increasing.

He walked to the road, then walked along that in till he found a gas station. There he made a beeline for the pay phone. He fed his coins in to the slot and rang the only number he knew off by heart.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

He gave up, slamming the phone back on to its receiver. When was the last time he talked to Hayley? Before he met Scott, that's for sure. Just a quick call to say he was alright, and no, he was still out of jail and _yes_ of course he would visit sometime even though they both knew he never would.

What would he talk to her about this time? That he lost it again? That he yelled at a homeless kid and ruined a barely surviving farmer's crop in one swoop? Or would he say nothing? Let her talk about herself. Find out how her work was and if things were still going strong with Mickey. Or was it Eddy?

Alex placed his head against the phone. It was cool, smooth. If only he knew Sean's number. He was always good for a laugh. That is, if he's sober enough to remember how to. How that kid ended up inheriting an Irish castle, he would never know. He would not entrust him with a sock. For a wistful second, he imagined rocking up to Sean's door, forgetting all about his American woes. Only for a second. Even if he knew where this castle was, he would never catch a commercial flight to get there. Maybe a boat...

Loud banging on the door interrupted his musings and he turned to see a large man glaring through the glass. "Don't just stand there all day boy. I've got a misses to call and she ain't half got a wicked tongue."

With all the fight drained out of him, Alex simply left the booth. With nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, Alex began his trudge back to the motel. In his adrenaline fuelled state, he had run further than he thought. It took him five minutes to get into the posh neighbourhood and another ten to get to the rundown part they were staying in.

Luckily his key was in his jeans, and Alex could let himself into the room. It was empty. Except that wasn't quite right. It was empty of people, but at the foot of Alex's bed there was a pile of stuff. Cigs, wrapped up food, a one dollar note, sixty five individual cents, a pair of battered sunglasses, a jumper, two blood stained washcloths. And a grey Alaskan wolf, snout chewed from when its owner was anxious.

Alex reached for it, holding it in his hand. It seemed like he won this for Scott a long time ago. And now the kid was gone, finally working out what an asshole he was.

Not letting go of the wolf, Alex picked out one of the cigarettes. He flicked the crumbs off it and placed it into his mouth. Then he opened Scott's box of matches, sighing when he saw it was empty. Only Scott... Alex lit it with his own lighter from his pocket.

Breathing in the fumes he took a moment to appreciate how he fucks everything up. Part of him expected the kid would walk back into the room but the more reasonable part knew he wouldn't. He was amazed he had stuck around this long. How many times had he wished he never picked Scott up? How many times had he cursed the kid in his head? So why did he want nothing more than him to come back through that door?

He took another puff, sitting down on the bed. It complained loudly at his weight, sagging down under him. Unable to stop himself, his mind travelled back to his time at the mansion. They had only been there for a week, their minds still reeling from Angel's betrayal and... and Darwin's death. The others didn't understand. Sure, they had grieved, but Alex had _killed_ him. Shaw may of pulled the trigger, but he had loaded up the gun and passed it to him. And why? Because they thought they could stop him? A bunch of terrified kids. Darwin had been good and _brave_ and always ready to try and do the right thing. The world kicked him down and crushed him under its heel and he was still prepared to stand up and fight for it. Not against it. As much as Mystique liked to play at it, if Darwin had survived he would of been the leader. The one they all looked too.

After one disastrous explosion in the nuclear bunker (and really, how had that head managed to land at his feet?) Alex walked out. Right out. He'd left everything he brought with him in his bedroom, but he knew he wasn't coming back.

Bozo had caught up with him when he was on the road leading to the Salem Center. He wasn't even out of breath. Alex hadn't expected him, he thought the Professor or maybe Sean. Someone he liked, and liked him back. Someone with basic social skills.

Hank, now strolling beside him, twiddling with his shirt, performed no miracles. Awkwardly he coughed. Then, just as Alex thought he couldn't take anymore, the man spoke. Well, maybe spoke was a bit of an exaggeration. More like word vomited.

"I don't want you to go. I mean, we don't want you to go. You're important. We need you. I've calculated our mission has a 12.7% less of a chance of success without you. And we can't take another lose. Alex, come back."

He said the last bit muttered at his feet, but if his bright red face was because of embarrassment or lack of breath between words, Alex didn't know.

" _You_ want me to stay? _You_? All I've done is been mean to you!" He managed to spit out after the shock had worn off. Hank looked more intently down at his shoes.

"I said the team wanted you to stay."

"No you didn't! You clearly said 'I'." He was doing it again, pushing people away with a shit eating grin on his face and a façade which didn't go a millimetre past the surface.     

"I don't care if you died in a ditch," Hank muttered, angrily, causing Alex to grin even wider because that was complete bullshit. "But we have a 12.7% less of a chance of pulling this off without you."

"You even worked out a percentage. How _sweet_!"

_Stop! Stop! STOP!_ Alex's mind had screamed at him, but he couldn't. And Hank had had enough. He scowled and ran back off to the mansion. Faster than Alex could ever match.

He walked for a minute more before turning on his heel and going back. He wanted to feel needed. He wanted to revenge Darwin's death. He wanted to belong somewhere. And that bunch of ragtag mutants was the best he could find. Of course, everything changed after Cuba. They stopped being a gang of misfits and turned into solitary broken men as quickly as Mystique could change form. He didn't belong in that mansion with too many empty rooms, he belonged... where?

His hand closed around the toy, and he put out his cig on the bedside table. "Goddamnit." He said to himself, that damn kid was going to make Alex go after him.

He stood up, exiting the room. Behind the reception was a girl that Alex would definitely spend time on if his mind wasn't too busy trying to work out how much trouble Scott could get into in the time he had gone. The girl behind the desk smiled and pushed her chest out.

"What can I do for you?" She asked, cheerfully.

_What can you do for me?_ He leant in close enough to smell her perfume. Cheap, but still nice. He smiled at her. For fuck sake, even when he walked out Scott still managed to cause him to lose out. "Seen a kid. Scraggly looking with duct tape over his eyes?"

The girl leant away, suspicious now. Must be the duct tape thing. They should really put bandages over it. Alex stood up straight. Time to do what he did best : lie through his teeth.

"He's my younger brother see. Blind as anything. We were going to see the specialist and I just popped out to get something. When I got back he was gone! He can get all sorts of trouble on his own and I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened to him." Alex had more, including a solemn vow on his mother's death bed that he would always look after little blind Scottie, but the girl seemed convinced. He didn't want to overdo it.

She leant forward again. Alex could feel the soft material that covered her bosom against his arm. Her dad was probably the owner. Sorting out a complaint, or maybe out at the shop. He wondered if he had enough time to fuck her senseless. To feel the swell of her breasts without the material covering it. To hear her scream his name in till her throat was raw and voice lost.

"You are such a good brother. I saw him leave about a quarter of an hour ago, heading out of town."

"Thanks." It took all of Alex's will power to pull himself away from the girl and go towards the exit. However, she reached across the desk and grabbed his hand before he left.

"Tell me when you find him." An invitation if Alex ever heard one. He gave her one last smile, before leaving the motel, a spring in his step.

He followed the girls instructions, getting in the car and taking it out of town. Only a couple of buildings littered the outskirts and soon it was open road. Scott would be easy enough to find. It didn't take long for Alex to catch up with him.

Even in the baking summer sun, Scott's black t-shirt had the sleeves rolled down so they covered nearly the tips of his fingers. As Alex approached, the kid's thumb flew out. He slowed, and Scott increased his walk so he was at the door. He rolled down the window.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to get rides from strangers, kid?"

Scott jumped back, almost comically. "A-Alex?"

"The one and only."

Scott bit his lip. "Did I forget to give something back?"

Alex rolled his eyes. "More like you forgot to take something with you." He took the wolf off his lap and pushed it into Scott's hand. The moment the soft fur touched his skin a wide grin appeared on his face. He pulled it tightly to his chest.

"Wolfie!" He whispered, like it was something sacred, rather than worth twenty-five cents at any decent store. But all that cheer only lasted a second. Scott pushed it away from him.

"But - but he's yours. I can't take him." Alex pushed the toy back into his chest. Hard enough that Scott couldn't mistake his intension.

"It's a gift. You know what a gift is, right?" He still looked confused, so Alex quickly hurried on. "Look, kid. _Scott._ The things I said before, I was just pissed off. Not with you. Just with life. And when I get pissed, I explode. And not just metaphorically."

Scott shook his head. In what messed up world was it progress that the kid could disagree with him.

"You're right. I'm not fine. My head - there's something wrong with my head. I don't remember what. B-but that's why I'm - "

He cut off. Crap. Alex had hit too close to home. The kid wasn't going to forget that. Alex shuffled awkwardly in the uncomfortable seat. All he does is push everyone away.

"You don't have to go."

Scott's face flicked to him, and then away. Too quickly for Alex to read the expression. He thought it was hope. He wanted it to be hope.

"But you said - "

"Forget what I said. Forget most things I say. I was pissed off. I get pissed off a lot. Especially if I hadn't used my power in a while. It boils under my skin. Makes me short tempered. And my powers will kill you." _Join the list._

"You haven't hurt me yet." The kid probably couldn't understand that pain and injury didn't just come from fists. That the mental hurt Alex was attacking him with was going to take a lot longer to heal. But he didn't say that. He wanted the boy to stay and he was too damn selfish for his own good.

The kid bit his lip, pushed the toy against his skin. "If - if I opened my eyes, I would kill you too."It wasn't a threat, but a fact. A way of showing solidarity.

Then Scott walked around the car, one hand trailing around the outside so he wouldn't lose it. He opened the door, getting into the passenger seat. Alex smiled. It hadn't looked right without a hunched up blindfolded kid in it.

Alex did a five point turn, glad the road was empty. Not a single car had past the whole time they were talking. No one to whisk Scott away. He didn't even want to imagine what would of happened if he hadn't got there in time. The one keep coming to mind was the boy being picked up by a sleazy human in a pickup truck. Alex would of been quite happy to drive back in silence, but it kept coming back to the same question:

"Is it really called Wolfie?"

Scott looked at him. Alex would love to see his eyes right now. "I thought it suited him."

"Suited him? You just described him! Couldn't you of given it a real name, like Barney or something?"

"Barney the Great Grey Wolf." Of course the kid said it seriously, like he was actually considering it.

"Shut it," Alex warned. Scott's face broke into a small smile. "I'm sure you can think of a better name."

"I was thinking Alex, but I didn't want you to get a big head."

"I preferred it when you didn't talk."

*

California : the state of beautiful girls, a sun that never stops shinning and the wide surf. Their motel was only a ten minute drive from a beach crammed full of surfers, ready to show how well they can ride. Alex already knew he would be better. Hell, he used to bunk off school to ride on the Banzai Pipeline.

It didn't take long to work out why a motel with all these perks was going at such a low price. It was right next to an air force base. What seemed like every minute the rumbling above them announced another plane was going somewhere a hell of a lot better than here. It was driving Alex mad. It had a different effect on Scott. Every time one of those damn metal birds flew over head, he would muttered something under his breath. Too quietly for him to hear, but he could see the kid's lips moving. Another plane rumbled past and Alex closed his eyes and flopped back onto the mattress.

"What you muttering about?"

Scott jumped, looking around guiltily. "I thought you couldn't hear."

"I couldn't! But your damn mouth's opening and closing like a fish."

"Sorry." He looked away biting his lip. Alex rolled his eyes.

"So what were you saying?"

The kid looked at him. Confused Alex actually wanted to know. He didn't, he was just so damn bored. He should of shelled out more and got a room with a TV.

"Cessa T-37 Tweet." Alex blinked. Had Scott finally lost his last marble?

"What?"

"The plan that just flew over head."

"You can tell that by the sound." He had heard that losing one sense amplified the others but that was just ridiculous!

Scott shrugged, sheepishly. "I like planes. I want to be - I meant wanted to be -  in the air force."

Alex rolled onto his side. "I hate planes."

The kid looked away. He was going to ask something that he wasn't sure Alex would like. If he got the balls up, that was.

"Why?"

"Do you remember when I said I have nightmares of falling?" Scott nods. "Well, I'm falling out a plane. I'm the only one who made it to the ground." Alive. Because his sister fell with him. She broke his fall. She died because of him. He looked at his hands as he said it. After a second, a furry snout was softly pushed against his face.

"I hug him when I'm upset." Scott said.

Alex snorted, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Like I want your snot encrusted toy." But, like the hypocrite he was, Alex took it and held it close to him. Silence fell.

"What are we doing!" Alex suddenly asked, jumping up, leaving Wolfie lying on the bed. Next to him, Scott frowned, quickly putting the toy back up his sleeve.

"We're sitting."

"Exactly! We're two handsome men in the prime of our lives - " well, Alex was anyway, Scott was a boy and he hoped this was not his prime " - and we're sitting here crying in a motel room!"

Scott cocked his head. _What are we meant to do then?_ It asked.

"Let's...uh... go to a bar!"

"I-I'm underage." That was almost said in a squeak.

"So am I. But tonight if anyone asks we're twenty one!"

Alex stood up, grabbing his wallet off the side. At this time of night most people would already be out of it. He could make a tidy profit. After a moment Scott  stood up too. He slipped Wolfie up his sleeve.

"I saw a place when we were coming in to town."

They took the car. He wasn't planning on drinking too much, though he had enough experience of driving over the limit. He was not the only person to have this attitude : the small tarmac car park was nearly full. So was the bar. In both cases they managed to squeeze in. Luckily only one involved Alex pressing himself against the wall to avoid a drunk with a large rolling beer belly.

The bar was on the other side of the room, and while Alex had confidently said they would just pretend to be twenty-one, even the most easy going tender would think twice before serving Scott. Instead, he guided the kid towards the darts. But, as they passed the pool tables, Scott stopped short. His ear found them first, then his face followed so he was 'looking' directly at them.

"Pool." Scott said, a sad lilt to his voice.

"You played?" Alex asked, surprised. He watched the men play. They took turns, laughing and joking with each other. If someone messed up, he was punched lightly on the shoulder, man for better luck next time. They were playing for fun.

"Yeah before - " He waved his hand in front of his eyes. "I was good. Made enough."

"You _hustled_? I thought you were a boy scout or something!"

"Boy scouts aren't made on the streets."

Well, he had a point there. "I can't play pool for shit. Now darts..."

He began to steer Scott back to the original destination. A match was already in full flow, a crowd gathered. Dropping Scott off with a warning not to go anywhere, he went to the bar. It took a while to get served - Alex envied the girls who just placed their boobs on the counter and the bar men were drawn to them like months to a flame. He finally managed to get two beers, flashing his fake ID. It was good he left Scott scouting out the darts. When he got back, he noticed the same match was still going on.

"The men were evenly matched, but Nick had won the last four games played." Scott informed him. Of course, Alex had no idea which one was Nick, and it wasn't like the boy could point him out.

As he studied them, Alex took a large gulp from his glass. He passed the other one to Scott. The boy took it gingerly, before sniffing it. Taking a sip, he grimaced. Alex grinned - he had exactly the same reaction as a fresh faced twelve year old.

"Tastes like water down piss, doesn't it?" Alex couldn't help but ask. Scott nodded, before taking another sip. Again his face wrinkled up.

The matched ended to boos and the taller olive skinned man scoped up the cash. He looked around the crowd with a wide grin on his face. It said : I think I'm better than you. It said : punch me.

"Anyone else want to try?" He called out to the crowd. Alex stepped forward before any else could. He should of spent longer evaluating the situation, finding out how the man played, what his strength and weaknesses were. But he had never been good to sticking to the plan.

The man looked him up and down, before smirking. "Are you even old enough to be in here?"

"I'm old enough to kick your ass." It may of been an old line but the man seemed to appreciate the comeback.

"301?" He asked as he walked up to the board. He pulled out his red ended darts, his last winning shot disappearing like a ghost.

"701." Alex countered. He wanted to draw the ass kicking out a bit. "You always get double points?"

The man laughed. "I'm not naive. 701."

Alex laughed with him, and nodded. He took a last glug of beer before putting the glass on the table. As he did so, Scott leant forward and hissed at him.

"That's _Nick_." Translation : I don't think this is a good idea, stop now. Alex just gave him a wink. While the kid could not see the response, he seemed to sense it as he frowned disapprovingly. Alex walked up to the table, picking up the losing darts. Heavy, the wings yellow tipped. As he felt them up in his hand, he checked out his opponent.   

"Nick?" Alex asked, "Short for Nicolas?"

"Dominikos."

"Strange name." The man glared at him.

"If you want to continue this _chitchat_ you'll have to buy me a beer." He had a slight accent, but Alex had no idea what it was.

"I'm Alex, if you care. Now, what we playing for?"

Dominikos slapped $5 on the table, Alex copying. "5 more every time you hit a single." Alex grinned. At least $20 would be on the table by the end. Of course, they were both hoping for more.

"Deal."

Alex went first. Bang. Bang. Bang. He barely looked and hit exactly what he wanted : three singles. He placed $15 on the table. A challenge. He swaggered up to the board and pulled his darts out. Nick then took his go. $40. Not bad. Alex scored a double to play himself in.

Bang. $45. Bang. $50. Bang. $60. Bang. Bang. Bang. $75. While 701 was not a quick game, it seemed like no time had passed before Alex was making his last move. He could do it in two. Double eight, double twenty.

Bang. Sailed in perfectly. Like a magnet finding its way to a fridge door. Hardly daring to breath, Alex lined up his next shot. He'd done this before. Easy. He threw it. But just as the dart was leaving his fingers the world seemed to shake. No, not a shake. A push. And his dart sailed into a single one.

Alex turned on his heel, glaring at Nick. "You pushed me!" He accused, angrily.

The other man held up his hands. Only a slight smug smile on his face gave him away. "How could I? I was over here!"

Alex knew all kinds of ways he could of : super speed, telekinesis, ferrokinesis. All of those things were impossible to prove. And if the word mutant was even mentioned all hell would break lose. He missed the days when humans didn't know what mutants were, but thanks to Magneto's - and other organisation and lone wolves - attacks someone even mentions the m-word and they seemed to lose their minds.

He turned  back to the board, scowling. He threw his last dart wildly, not even caring when the sharp metal tip embedded itself into a single eight. Alex slapped ten bucks on the table, before stalking forward to the board and ripping all his darts out.

Still smirking, Nick moved forward. He shot a double sixteen and brought his score down to zero. He pocketed the cash into his wallet, before looking at the crowd. "Anyone else?"

Maybe it was Alex's accusation of possible cheating, or maybe he just won one game too many, but nobody else stepped forward. After a moment, Nick shrugged his shoulders and moved off. Grumpily Alex moved back to where Scott was sitting - only he wasn't there anymore.

Alex quickly scanned the room. Where the hell had the kid managed to get off to? After a second of frantic searching, he saw Scott coming from the bar. He was moving slowly, hands in front of him. But he still moved a lot better than Alex had thought blind people could. Never once as he travelled through the busy room did he crash into something or someone.

He moved to the kid, scowling like a mother. "Where the hell did you get off to?"

Scott smiled, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a plain leather wallet and Alex's mouth fell open in surprise.

"You stole this?" he hissed. He pulled it out the boy's hands, opening it. Tucked inside was a blue book. A white cross was on the front, and languages Alex couldn't read was engraved on it, but in gold was the word _passeport_ , and even Alex could take a guess at what that meant. Under that was signed Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis in curly hand writing. He opened the back, pulling out all the cash he could see and stuffing it into his back pocket.

"I don't like to," Scott explained. Wolfie was in front of his mouth, a sign he felt guilty. Not suiting the over twenty one look they were going for. "But he _did_ cheat and the money _should_ be yours."

"You just took my word he cheated?" A grin spread out on his face. Trust, he wasn't used to that.

Sheepishly Scott shook his head, Wolfie pressed closer to his mouth. Alex tried not to feel disappointed. "I felt the vibrations slightly."

"You did?"

"He was right by me!" Scott defended.

"That skinny kid stole my wallet!" The accented voice cut through the crowd. Cursing, Alex grabbed Scott's wrist and began to run. The kid trailed behind him. Getting out the bar was hard, people seemed to block them at every turn. If Nick hadn't taken half the bar's money they might of helped him. But they didn't exactly move out the way for them either. They had to push and shove their way through to the door.

Once out, he randomly picked a direction. He went left. Due to Scott, running fast wasn't exactly an option. He ducked into the first alley he saw, and they slinked into the shadows. Alex dropped Scott's hand, and the boy rubbed his wrist in pain but made no comment.

Alex moved away, cursing when he hit a brick wall only meters away. They just had to hope Nick was worse at finding people than he was at darts.

"You took my wallet." Of course he wasn't.

Slowly, Alex turned around. Even in the dim light he could see a big figure holding a small figure. Shit.  Slowly he lifted up his hands. A sign of surrender. He wouldn't dare shoot while there was a chance he would hit Hayley -  Scott. It was Scott there. He couldn't get lost in his head. Not now.

Hostage negotiations. He was not good at these. Standoffs seemed to refuse to go well for him. Now with Darwin. Not with Hayley. Someone always seemed to end up dead. And it was always due to him. He prayed this time it wasn't Scott who paid the price for his shitty luck.

"Nick. Let go off the kid. He had nothing to do with it." Nick snorted. Alex didn't dare move closer, terrified of what will happen if he did. Hayley had struggled, screamed. She had a black eye. Her t-shirt ripped. And the man holding her just _grinned_. Nick wasn't that man. Nick wasn't -

"This _twerp_ stole it from me."

"I wouldn't of stolen it if you hadn't cheated."

Alex didn't know which one of them looked more surprise : Nick or him? Scott was a mouse, he couldn't order a cheeseburger without stuttering. He most definitely didn't talk back to a man with an arm around his neck. It was probably just the adrenaline. Powering through his body and making him feel unbeatable. Unless Alex had the kid all wrong. Maybe Scott had a bit of Hayley running through him after all. Maybe time was going to repeat itself. Someone was going to end up dead. 

"Listening to the wrong person kid. A man like him is going to get you in trouble . Oh, wait, he already has."

"You're a mutant. So am I and so is he." Scott said it evenly.

Alex expected the man to be surprised, to deny that he could possibly be one of those. But he just grinned. Just like the man before. Teeth showing. A shark.

"So what? You think you're the first mutant I've ever met? That I would be so thankful that I met someone just like me I'll forgive you for being a thief?"

Scott smiled. The dim light caught off his yellowing teeth, making them seem like rare pearls.

"No. I'm telling you that we're dangerous."

And then he lent down and _bit_ Nick's hand. With a grunt, he pushed Scott off him and the kid tumbled into the alley floor. He fell to the floor, and didn't get back up. Nick still stalked over. Only when Scott grunted as a foot crashed into his stomach did Alex's brain kick in. He held up his hands.

His shot was deliberately off target, the floor by the two of them exploding. Nick turned. He flicked his hand's upwards. Suddenly Alex was shaking. No, not Alex. Everything else. An earthquake! He couldn't keep his balance. He crashed to the floor.

Nick ran towards him. He was above him before Alex could get up. A foot pressed against his throat. He tried to slap it away. The pressure was increased.

"Wallet." He growled. Alex reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Nick snatched it up. Before he could look inside, he fell forward. Foot slipping off Alex's neck, but not before giving him a sharp jab in the windpipe.

He coughed, throat sore. For a moment he just lay there. Throat on fire. Why did this hurt so much? Shit. He rolled over onto his hands and knees. His eyes found the fight - if he could call it that. It mostly involved Scott trying to keep out the man's reach. As Nick turned to see Alex's movement, Scott lunged forward. He grabbed a fist full of the man's thick hair and pulled forward. Nick snarled and pushed. The boy flew away from him, skidding across the filthy floor. Without thinking, Alex raised his hands up and fired.

For a second, the world turned red. He could see everything in amazing detail. Scott, lying on the ground in a tight ball. At some point he had lost his glasses. He could see the dirt that stuck to the glue on the peeled back tape. Nick was in a lot better condition. He was ducking out the way. His hands faced downwards and the floor beneath them cracked and rose up. A scream told him he hit his target. Then the ground beneath burst upwards and he found himself hitting the floor. Again.

Pain crashed through his body. By the time he recovered enough to pull himself up, Nick was already gone. Stiffly Alex made his way to Scott's body. They needed to move before Nick realised they still had the money. They didn't have it in them to get their ass kicked again. But Scott was lying too still and Alex couldn't crush the worry that it wasn't Nick's scream.

Even as he stumbled forward, he wanted to run away. He couldn't see Scott dead. Not someone else. Please, God, not him. Then he was above him. On his knees. How did you check someone was still alive? He touched Scott's face - snatching his hand back as the kid groaned under his touch.

"Hurts," he whimpered. Alex's face broke into a wide grin. Without thinking he hugged Scott, pulling his body close to his. Quickly, he let go. It was a sign of how far gone the boy was when he didn't even tense up.

"I thought I hit you!" Alex said. Scott frowned.

"So - so did I." He looked down. The left side - the one closest to Nick - had all the clothes burnt away. But on the skin there was no burn marks. Not even red. Strange.

"I must of missed. How bad are you?"

"I'm fi - "

"Don't lie. I'm trying to help." Scott bit his lip.

"I think my ribs are damaged... And my left ankle is sprained."

"Anything else?"

A moment past, then Scott mumbled, "Everything fucking hurts like shit."

Alex's grin grew wider. That was probably the most truthful thing the kid had ever said to him. "OK. Let's get you up."

Putting an arm around Scott's waist, he pulled him up. The kid was as light as a feather and Alex thought it would just be easier to carry him back. However Scott would object to that. So instead, he began a slow three legged trek.

By the time they got back to the car park, Alex was ready to collapse. They stumbled to the car - or where the car should of been. Alex looked around the parking lot. Nothing.

"Fuck." Scott tensed up beside him, getting ready to fight again. "Someone stole our fucking car."

He couldn't tell if he was surprised, angry or just tired. For a moment he just stood there, breathing heavily. Then when it became clear the car wasn't going to appear by force of will alone, he made a decision.

"Let's phone a cab."

He helped Scott to the curb, and the boy sat on it, his bad leg stretched out onto the empty road. The bluish-green light from the street lamp he was under made him look pale, like all his blood had been drained. Once he was settled Alex moved to the payphone across the road. He picked a cab  number  randomly off the wall, and dialled it. While he had no idea where they were, the man on the other end seemed to know the bar he was talking about.

Once done, he moved back to Scott, taking a seat next to him. He leaned back on his arms and closed his eyes. So fucking tired.

"He says he'll be about a quarter of an hour." He told the boy.

"I'm sorry." He said in reply. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Don't. Thanks to you we have money." He messed up. He brought Scott into this. The kid got hurt tonight, and it was his fault. He purposefully risked the kid's life for some more cash. It must be the tiredness, or the guilt, but Alex began to speak. "I was terrified, when I saw he had you. Hayley - you remember Hayley, my foster sister?"

"Mr. Fire Starter." Scott said, with a slight grin. Alex returned it, before his face turning serious again.

"Yeah. Mr. Fire Starter. She had a good sense of humour. The best. Her parents were awful. Worse than awful. They had a son and he died. And they got me and used me like a was a fucking replacement. Hayley was the only one who really saw me as me in that family. She was so kind, you wouldn't even think she was their blood child. And she got it. Living in a shadow. Nobody could  live up to their perfect child.

"But I wasn't the only one who thought she was great. There was this man, they met when he was still in school. He was obsessed with her. Like he used to follow her home, and tried to get her to date him. And she didn't give a shit about him. She told him to fuck off to his face more than once, but he wouldn't. And one day, we were walking back from school and just pushed her into his car. And I just rode after him on my bike. But I lost them." Alex closed his eyes, letting out air shakily.

"She never said what happened. What he did to her. I found his car, outside a warehouse. But it was too late. And he heard me come in, and he had his hand on her wrist stopping her from escaping, and I lost it. My power came out for the first time. I killed him. Vaporised him. And she just looked at me, mouth hanging open. And I thought, this is it. She's going to run away. But she didn't. She just ran forward hugged me and didn't let go. She called me her hero. Nobody has ever called me that. We made a pact, to never tell anyone this. Ever."

Alex was looking away, down the street. Scott gently touched his shoulder, bringing his attention back. "Why did you tell me?"

The older man shrugged, bit his lip. "Seeing Nick with his arms around  just reminded me so much of her. And - " He closed his eyes. "I like you a lot. You're the younger brother I never got to have. And you understand. The guilt you carry. He deserved it. Vincent - his name was Vincent - he deserved it. But when I close my eyes I can hear him screaming. And - "

He put his head in his hands. He was angry at himself for being so weak. "What am I doing? Second time I've broken down in one night!"

"Sometimes you have to. It's not healthy to keep it in." He turned his head to the side, looking at the kid. Scott was fidgeting with Wolfie.

"You seem to be keeping it together alright." Alex pointed out. How was a fourteen year old kid be handling his fucked up life better than him? The boy shook his head.

"No. I'm not."

"Oh." Alex bit his lip. "Want to talk about it or something?"

"No, not really." A pause. Alex didn't blame him at all. But he found he was glad he said it out loud. Hayley and him never mentioned it again. A bond that kept them linked together. But it had festered under his skin, and now it was - not gone, but it felt better. He couldn't explain why.

"His name was Jack. He was my foster dad." Scott suddenly said.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it." He didn't want to make the boy feel pressured. That he had to share his fuck-uped life because Alex couldn't keep his under wraps. Scott shook his head.

"I'm taking my own advice." He paused, took a breath. "He - he was a bad man. A _really_ bad man. He made me work for him. He made me steal things and hurt people and - I killed him. I didn't want to. I told him he wasn't going to make me into a murder. But he did. Because if I didn't stop him at that moment, nobody was ever going to be able to." Scott's breathing had increased. His hands shook. He was sweating. Alex touched his shoulder. He expected the boy to move away, but instead he fell into him.

"Have you ever seen a diamond break?" Alex blinked. What kind of question was that? Scott didn't wait for his reply. "It shatters like glass. Cuts your face, you arms, your hands. And it's beautiful when it does it. That was the first time my power ever made something beautiful. When I was killing a man."

Alex just hugged him, unsure of what to say. He stoked the boy's hair. What he always wanted someone to do with him. But nobody ever did. They sat like that in till the taxi came, ready to take them back to the motel.

*

Alex didn't open his eyes in till three p.m. had gone. The cab had brought them back to the motel and, after they stumbled out, he parted with some of his well earned cash. Only a telepath would know what the night receptionist was thinking as they limped into the lobby, battered and bruised. Alex had asked for another night, correct in thinking he would be in bad shape in the morning. Once he got into the room, he helped Scott into bed, before collapsing face first into his own. He didn't fall asleep straight away like he hoped. Instead he spent hours lying awake, his body in aches and pains. Behind his closed eye lids, Hayley and Scott blurred into one, begging him to help them. But at some point he must of drifted off, or he wouldn't of woken to a body that felt a hundred times worse than the night before.

For awhile after he woke, he lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling. A grey, slightly uneven paint coverage. It had never occurred to him you painted ceilings before. Every ten minutes the room shook as another plane took off. He might of laid there all day if his bladder wasn't screaming at him.

Stiffly he got out of bed. For someone who had been in a mutant fight he didn't seem that injured. Sure, his throat hurt every time he swallowed, and a perfectly good pair of jeans were now ripped and blood stained, but other than that it was just scrapes and bruises.

He went to the toilet, before trying to wash off the grit and mud from his cuts in the small sink. It only had cold water, and he couldn't really push his knee in far enough, but it was good enough for now.

Scott was lying on his back under the covers, face pointed at the ceiling. Alex couldn't tell if the boy was awake or asleep. Hell, he couldn't even tell if he was still alive. It wasn't natural for someone to lie that still.

"Scott," Alex hissed, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep. Nothing was worse than being woken prematurely after an ass kicking. The kid rolled his head so it was facing Alex, and cocked it slightly. _What the hell do you want?_

"How you feeling?" Scott opening his mouth, but Alex didn't even give him time to say anything. He held his finger up in warning. "And if you say you're fine I'm going to hunt out Nick and let him beat you up all over again."

Scott's mouth clearly said he didn't believe that, but it still seemed to do the trick. "I feel like crap."

"Where does it hurt the most?"

The boy bit his lip like it was a million dollar question. Alex sighed and rephrased it.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Chest. Ankle. Stomach. Legs. Knees. Arms. Hea- "

"Maybe it would of been easier if I asked where it didn't hurt. OK, let's sort you out."

Alex grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it off Scott and the bed in one swoop. He was going to start at the kid's ankle - he seemed unable to put pressure on it the night before - but his clothing caught his eye.

He knew Scott's top had been burnt, but in the half light of the night he hadn't realise how much. Nearly the whole left shoulder and arm was gone, and Alex suspected it carried on down his back. No way did none of his blast hit him. But the skin underneath didn't look raw or burnt. It looked normal.

Unable to stop himself, Alex marched forward, poking at the exposed flesh. He expected the illusion to fall away, and the damage he caused to reveal itself. But it stayed pale and smooth. Ignoring how tense Scott was, he kept his hand on his skin, trying to work it out. It was possible. His hand slipped from the bicep to the top of his back, freezing as his fingers came to the marks. Slightly risen, all the same circular size and a lot them, rougher than the rest of his skin. Burns, but not from Alex's power. Older, healed. He wondered how the kid could smoke when he'd clearly been used as an ash tray.

As he pulled his hand back, Scott visibly relaxed. Alex felt sick. Anger bubbled up. His hands shook. He tasted red. _He was a bad man_. Alex heard Scott say in his head from last night. _He made me work for him._  How could someone do  that? If Jack wasn't dead, he would kill him himself. He pushed it down. Deep breaths. The kid was safe now. It was OK. He needed to stay calm. Normally he would have a cigarette, but he couldn't. Not after seeing that.

Stiffly, he walked to Scott's feet. His boots were still on them. They were falling apart, the soles worn down so there was no grip left and the tongue ripped.

"Can I take your shoes off?" Normally he wouldn't ask, but those scars were engraved into his mind. To think someone could do that to a kid. Again and again and -

"Yeah."

His fingers shook as he ripped apart the double know and pulled the fraying laces open, repeating as he did it with the other. The shoes dropped to the floor. After a second, the socks followed. He compared them up. The left was blue and puffy.

"Definitely swollen." After Cuba, in the mansion, Sean had sprained his ankle, landing after flying. Beast had told him to keep it above his heart. Alex retrieved the blanket off the floor, folding it so it gained height. Carefully he placed Scott's foot on it. It sunk down from the weight, both sides puffing out, but as long as the boy stayed lying down it would work.

"I haven't gone to med school - in fact, I didn't even get through high school - but I think you shouldn't stand up."

Scott probably rolled his eyes, but all Alex could see was the grin. "I'll get some bandages for it later. You said your chest hurts?"

He came forward, trying to avoid looking at the shoulder. He grabbed the bottom of Scott's jumper but the boy pushed him off frantically before he could lift it up.

"Scott, I've got to see your injuries." His voice was no nonsense, but the boy just kept shaking his head and pushing Alex's hands away.

"No - you can't - I don't - _please_."

Alex bit his lip. No doubt the kid was hiding more scars. Probably worse than those cigarette burns - and those fucking hurt. Alex didn't want to see them. Didn't want to know what people could do clearly written out on a fourteen year olds skin.

"OK. OK. How about through your t-shirt?"

After a second, Scott nodded, pulling up his top layer to about half way up his rib cage. Slowly, Alex worked his way up from the bottom, noting the points where he winced.

"I think everything's fine. Y'know, just bruised."

Scott quickly pulled his top down. He coughed, grimacing as it moved his ribs. Not even with the money they got last night could they afford a hospital. And they would have to walk there, something Scott couldn't do. And the last thing he wanted was a social services being called because of the kid's scars. Care was a fucking joke. They always said he was one of the lucky ones and he had ended up with the Blandings.

Alex stood up, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm going to have to go out because we don't have the car anymore, and your ankle needs to be bandaged. Is that, uh, OK?"

Since when did he ask the kid's permission to go out? Since when did he ask anyone's permission. He left, fuck the consequences.

"Y-yeah?" Now Scott was sounding as unsure as he was. _Pull yourself together_ he told himself sternly.

"OK. Off I go then!" He left, shaking his head at himself in dismay.

As he walked his body limbered up, his sore muscles beginning to feel less stiff. With no idea where the closest shop was, Alex picked a direction at random. Left had been a good choice. After five minutes of walking he found himself at a reasonably sized store. The kind that sold every basic you could ever possibly need and a ton of useless junk you think you need in till you get home. Alex had never been good at working out which was which. He was much more likely to buy fifty pairs of knitted gloves in the middle of summer than the milk he went in for. But today was going to be different, even with those dollars burning a hole in his back pocket. He should of given half to Scott in case he was mugged or something. He stepped in, and at the till he had :

A six pack; two tins of soup; four tins of beans; bread; a tube of ice-cream; lollipops, exact number unknown; chocolate; choc-ices; a tin of peaches; two magazines, a comic and a top shelf; a bouncy ball; a pair of sunglasses; and what he actually came in for, bandages.

"Anything else?" The man behind the counter asked. He looked about ninety. Thin white wispy hair and sagging skin. He moved like he was ninety as well, agonisingly slowly. Just listening to his weak croaky voice made Alex vow to never grow old.

"A twenty pack of - " He cut off, his mind's eyes flashing an image of Scott's back. "Actually, I'm fine."

The man nodded, like a turtle. In the time it took him to pay and get the change, Alex was sure he saw the grass outside the window grow.

Finally he got away. Back at the motel, Alex bandaged up Scott's ankle. It was harder than it looked. After his second unsuccessful try, Scott suggested he could give it a go, but he was not going to be shown up. Next the melting choc-ices and ice-cream went on the ankle to help with the swelling.

For dinner they had melted ice-cream straight from the cardboard box. Alex had been appalled to find out the kid had never had ice-cream soup before. He gave Alex his 'you've grown another head' look when he asked if he ever had ice-cream before.

The next day Alex went to the front desk and upgraded their room to one with a TV. It was an awkward process to get Scott there. Luckily the shades Alex had brought helped the kid blend in with the humans. But the TV was completely worth the struggle, even with its one channel and black and white colour.

They sat, smoking Alex's last couple of Marlboros (he should of really brought another pack at that damn shop) and watched whatever was on the tube. At the moment, it was a game show. The kind where a ridiculous question was asked, and the ridiculously smart contestant would know the ridiculous answer and would win a ridiculous amount of money. Joanna Blanding - his foster mother - would always be watching them as he came home from school, a glass of wine in her hand. She would yell answers at the screen, getting into a near frantic rage. Nobody would dare ask her to keep it down.

The smiling man turned to the camera. "What category do you want, sir?" His voice oozed fake cheer. The sound on screen intensified, zooming in on the contestant's face like this was the biggest decision of his life. Alex took a drag in disgust.

Scott, on the other hand, had been drawn in hook, line and sinker. He was lying front down on his single bed, his head down at the bottom so he was closer to the TV screen. His injured ankle rested on a pillow behind him.

"Music." Scott sighed - he wasn't very good at that section. He fidgeted as the man read the question and options out. The kid tilted his head up, and the screen flickered, the static increasing. Cursing, Scott quickly lay his head back down, the TV screen becoming focused again.

"Shit. I missed the answer."

"Like it's important." Scott ignored Alex's grumble, his attention already back on the TV. The contestant entered the random round to double his cash. Scott lay as still as a statue. Rolling his eyes, Alex took another drag.

"OK. Are you ready?" The host asked.

"As I'll ever be." Alex wanted the contestant just once to say no, he needed to take a shit, or something equally outrageous. At least it would make it interesting.

"If you're sure. OK. Who was the first woman to do a _solo_ , nonstop flight across the Atlantic Ocean."  

"Amelia Earhart." It was not the contestant who said it, but rather Scott. Alex was not surprised that the name came up as the host began to list the four options and one of them was Scott's woman. The kid had a disturbing knowledge of all things airplane.

"Geek." Alex muttered. Scott turned to him, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Doesn't everyone know that? Isn't that the kind of thing they teach at school or something?"

School, as far as Alex could remember, taught maths, English and other bull you would never need in life. And it definitely did not teach you about woman - well woman anything. "I bet you were a teacher's pet at school."

Scott pulled a face. "I wasn't."

Amelia Earhart lit up on the screen, and the contestant turned his face away from the camera as his gamble turned sour.

"Right..."

Scott frowned. "I-I was always ill. And nobody cared if kids like me don't turn up. And when I did go I wasn't very good." He had that pained look on his face. The one that meant he was trying to remember something. "Everyone said I was - I was - "

He cut off. Teachers were bad, looking down their noses at you and saying you'll never achieve anything, but the kids were so much worse. Alex would know, he was one of them.

"Well school didn't work out for me either. Always got into fights and shit."

Scott smiled at him, a slight tug of his lips. Solidarity. He turned back to the TV as the credits scrolled down the screen too fast to read properly. The theme music made Alex want to scream.

Alex took another drag of his smoke. The end burnt the tips of his fingers. He put it out on the table, before tossing it carelessly away from him.

He looked back at the TV and a serious man looked at him right back. Balding, on the wrong side of forty, with an annoying clipped accent. Alex groaned : it was the news. Why couldn't this channel play cartoons?

"At lunchtime today, anti and pro mutant rights campaigners clashed in Illinois at a college that announced that it would refuse mutants to carry on their studies after they manifest. It began at - "

Alex turned off the TV. He picked up a bean can and an opener on his way back to the bed. He wasn't hungry, he just wanted something to do with his hands.

"Why did you turn it off?" Alex groaned.

"Because I didn't want to hear about it." Scott cocked his head. The kid wasn't going to leave it be. Get his trust and you'll find yourself playing twenty questions for the rest of your life.

"Why? Don't you want to hear about the rest of our... kind?"

Alex placed the can on the side table, still sealed. His fingers fidgeted with the opener. Throw. Turn. Catch. Throw. Turn. Catch.

"I don't want to hear about another fight which they'll blame on mutants and make it worse for us."

"You've never wanted to fight for mutants?"

Alex snorted. "Yeah, I fought. You know what happened? People died and everything was worse than it was before. I wish the whole fucking human race was still oblivious to our existence."

Scott pushed Wolfie against his chest and mumbled, "I don't."

"What would you know?"

Scott hesitated for a second. "I know that if they weren't oblivious I might not of fallen through the system. And I wouldn't of trusted someone just because they were like me. And I wouldn't of turned to bad things. And I wouldn't of felt so alone, so much of a freak. And if no one knows about us, things can't get better. And we would never finish high school or walk down the street without fear of being hurt - or worse."

Alex turned his face away. The damn kid had to be right. To achieve the same rights as humans, they had to know they existed. It was alright for him, he could pass - mostly. As long as his hands weren't glowing. But people like Mystique or Azazel or even Hank before he turned blue with his large feet, they couldn't live like him. They couldn't do a road trip across America because they wanted to. They couldn't buy a pack of cigs from the local store without becoming the next mutant to be lynched or attacked or shot.

Then he sighed. Like they could do anything about it. If saving the whole damn work at Cuba wasn't going to convince them, how would peaceful protests? How would Magneto's gang breaking into high level offices and shooting people? How would those lone firecrackers? 

"Make sure I'm the first person you call when the humans accept us kid."

*

The sun beat down on Alex and Scott as they walked along the road. The pavement was so hot, Alex was sure he could feel it through his shoes. In his hand was a quickly melting ice-cream and on his face he wore a pair of shades identical to Scott's.

Alex loved summer. Hell, he even changed his surname back to it.

Scott, though, didn't. Not that he said it. But from his hunched up shoulders and slight frown on his face you didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduct it. He suspected it had something to do with the clothing. Alex was wearing a tank top and baggies, his skin out and tanning. The boy next to him had black trousers and a too big hoodie to trap in the heat. He had removed the ripped t-shirt underneath it in an unsuccessful attempt to cool down.

The hot pavement turned to sand and Alex's grin stretched. One handed he took off his shoes and threw them into his backpack. The sand was warm as he wriggled his toes into it.

"Feel that?" He asked, excitably through licks of his ice cream. The one thing he missed from Hawaii : the sand and the surf. Scott cocked his head next to him. Looking down, Alex saw Scott's boots were still on his feet. He sighed. "Ever been to a beach before?"

The kid shrugged, taking a lick of his own ice-cream. "Kincaid Beach?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Anchorage? You used to live in Alaska?"

The kid sounded 100% mid-western. But then again, he sounded 100% Hawaiian and he lived in Anchorage once too. Scott nodded.

"Yeah. With my family."

"Huh."

"What?" asked Scott, suspicious.

"I lived there once too. Just a strange coincidence. We might of live close to each other."

The kid shrugged. "Maybe." Alex didn't really wanted to carry on the conversation, and Scott seemed to feel the same.

"Follow me." Alex lead him away from the street entrance and found a place to sit as far as he could from other people. More for Scott's sake then his own - he could see and duck a ball if it was coming towards his head, the kid could not. The amusement wasn't worth Scott being a bitch to him for the rest of the day. They crashed down on the warm sand.

They finished their ice-creams before Alex suggested Scott could take his shoes off. He looked torn and Alex told him that it wasn't a command. After a minute, the kid pulled his shoes off, and then his socks too. His ankle was still bandaged, but with no cuts the worst the sand could do was be annoying.

"Isn't that good?" Alex said as he pushed his hands into the ground. He lifted them up in fists so the sand drained from it, landing in piles. Scott's hands were in it too.

"It's cold underneath."

"Just wait till the sea. Please say you went into the sea at Kincaid!" Scott only shrugged, and Alex nearly fainted in shock. What kind of child had never been in the sea? It took all his will power not to scoop the boy up in his arms and throw him into the water. Instead he stood up, pulling Scott with him. Scowling, the kid pulled his arm free, but still followed him.

They only had to walk for a moment before Alex was plunging his feet into warm water. He let out a sigh of relief. Tension seemed to drain from his body like air from a popped balloon. He didn't stop walking in till he was up to his knees. Every time a wave went past, the bottom of his shorts got wet. This was paradise. With a grin wider than his face he turned - only to find Scott hadn't even gone as far as his toes. Well, if he wasn't going to take the opportunity...

Alex waded back out. He pulled his top and shorts off, stuffing them in his bad, which he then gave to Scott. He held it hopelessly in his hand for a second before swinging it over his shoulders.

"Look after it. I'm going for a swim." Alex said before running into the ocean in till the waves lapped his stomach. Then with a powerful strokes, he began swimming. Before long, he was so far out his feet couldn't touch the bottom. Out here, the waves were larger. Then he turned to the side and began swimming parallel to the shore. He bobbed with the waves. He missed surfing. The moment of catching a wave and suddenly being in control of the sea. It was a lie, of course, and the sea never let you forget it for long. Too soon your power could crumble and you find yourself under the water, unsure which way was up and which was down.

He turned on his back, floating there. Scott was still just standing there, but he had at least moved into the water. He was too far away for Alex to make out the details. He was like a parent making sure his child was OK! He felt a pressing responsibility to make sure the kid was alright at all times. Was this what his sister - and Hayley - had felt when he was younger? 

He began swimming again. Then he saw them. Standing on the beach in a huddle, boards erect in the air. Surfers. He began to swim to the shore, his strong muscles meaning the trip only took seconds. With no towel, he couldn't dry himself off as he emerged from the water. Instead he had to leave it to the sun. The trickles of water dripping from his hair helped him keep cool.

As he moved closer he saw why the surfers were just standing around. Beach bunnies. Perfect. If they were trying to pick up a girl, they were more likely to let him borrow a board. And if they didn't, well girls hated a selfless man, and loved the poor victim.

A blonde caught his eye as he approached and he winked.

"Hey there." He said. She smiled, not opening her mouth.

"Hey back." Her skin was a brown that said she hung around the beach a lot and everything about her just looked good. Eyes a perfect blue, nose a perfect size for her love heart face, and lips the perfect plush shape.

"Who are you?" It was one of the men who asked. Rat faced and long hair. He didn't seem angry, just curious. Either he didn't see Alex as a threat - unlikely seeing at he was a two compared to his ten - or he valued surfers over girls. He had met a couple of men - and women - who were much more interested in the solid, unemotional wood of their board than the soft touch of a flesh and blood person.

"Alex. You?"

"Lee. And man, I hate to burst your bubble but bunnies only like surfers."

Alex grinned. "I'm in luck then."

"You surf?" Lee seemed genuinely excited about that.

"Waves are pretty flat today, but I'll still give them a go."

Lee's grin turned wider. "This beach is meant to have the most constant waves on the west side and I pick today to come down. I probably would of had better luck staying at home. But I hate to waste a trip, and while I'm not going to break any records on them, I might as well give them a go as well. You got a board?"

Either Lee talked a lot or Alex had been spending too much time with Scott.

"That's my problem." Alex explained. "I come from Hawaii and I'm too broke to rent one out."

Lee whistled. "Hawaii? Man, the best surfs are there. Why the hell did you come here? I would love to go there. But I can totally fix you up with a board. I understand the whole being broke thing. I just got fired from my last job. Not that I care. Man, they were so _uptight_ there." He turned to the guy next to him, tapping him on his meaty shoulder. "Hey Robbie, my friend, I was wondering if you would lend Alex here your board. I would - "

Robbie didn't even look away from the girl he was chatting with. "Sure."

Alex grinned, and Lee pointed to the floor where a board lay. He picked it up. "Thanks man." He told Robbie, who didn't seem to hear him.

"C'mon, let's see if we can catch a good one." Board under arm, Lee began towards the sea. Alex had to jog to keep up with him. "Robbie is a good guy, but a complete stoner. If he wasn't so rich I wouldn't of brought him along. Can't catch a wave for shit, much rather flirt with bunnies and smoke, but he has a car. Kind of chains me down. Now a guy like you Alex, you know what's really important : the sea."

Then they were in the water, and Lee stopped chatting to focus on the waves. It was a long time before either of them left the water, but when they finally did Alex felt the best in - well ever.

Lee's friends had already started a small campfire, the spitting flames barely visible in the afternoon sun. Why they needed more heat right now was a mystery to Alex though. They sat down with them, and Lee did a great job of stroking his ego, declaring Alex was 'rad' and 'one of the best surfers on the beach'. And Alex found once he started talking he couldn't stop. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken for so long and so enthusiastically.  

"Hey, Alex, you're totally staying for the barby right? Like you don't have to go back to a missus or some fuck up straight edged parents or something?"

Alex laughed. "Hell yeah I'm staying for the - shit. _Scott._ "

He had completely forgotten about the kid. So much for being a responsible big brother. He had been in another world. A better world. Alex stood up, looking up and down the beach. The crowd were thinning, but still large enough to hinder his search. Finally his eyes found a lone figure sitting by himself. His legs were pressed tightly against his body and a rucksack lay over his feet.

"Bingo." He cut over Lee who had been asking who Scott was. Each suggestion he gave was more ridiculous than the last. Though it hadn't got as far as 'fellow mutant I met in a police holding cell and went on a road trip with' yet.

Lee stood up next to him and tried to follow his gaze. "The five year old with a shovel or the hottie in that rather attractive thirties swimsuit."

Alex couldn't help but pull a disgusted face at that last option. 'Hottie' was not a word he would use. Maybe 'grandmother'. "Neither. The kid on his own with the shades."

Lee squinted. "What you waiting for! Get him over here. The more the merrier and all that. I remember I was once on a beach in - "

Not bothering to stay and listen to the end of the story (which would no doubt lead to another story that would lead to another one) Alex began to walk towards the figure. Behind him, Lee didn't seem to notice. Cheerfully he carried on telling his story to an audience of thin air.

When Alex reached Scott, he put a hand on his shoulder. The boy lurched forward to get away from him, his breathing panicked.

"Chill. It's me." Alex said, and Scott, recognising his voice, relaxed slightly. His breathing was still quick and he scowled at the older man, arms folded across his chest.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, they may hurt you."

"Like you could hurt anyone pipsqueak." That was a purely banterous remark. While Scott looked small and skinny, he fought like a wild thing. "And if you hurt me, I might not let you in on the free meal I scored."

Scott leant forward eagerly. "Meal?"

"Uh-huh. So get your scrawny ass up before everyone else eats it."

Alex had never seen anyone move so fast. He laughed at the excited expression on Scott's face. He tried to remember if they ate lunch today, or if he just wasn't feeding the boy enough. He picked his backpack off the floor where Scott had kicked it in his original panic. After he had swung it over his shoulders, he guided the boy towards the gathering. However the closer they got, the more anxious Scott seemed to get. Not being able to take the feet dragging any more, Alex sighed.

"What's wrong?"

Wolfie - which was already in Scott's mouth - was chewed harder. Then, hesitantly, it was pulled out. "The food is _free_ isn't it? Like I - we - won't have to do anything for it?"

Alex looked at Scott from the corner of his eye. One day he might work this kid out. "Like what?"

"Nothing." He muttered at the ground. Before Alex could insist, they had arrived. Scanning the small crowd he saw Lee sitting by the fire. He was holding a sausage on a stick in the flames, a near full packet on his lap. Alex guided them towards him.

"ALEX!" Lee cried when he saw them, like he had been gone for a month and not a couple of minutes. "Grab a beer." He held out two in his free hand. Alex took them, keeping one for himself and handing the other to Scott.

"Lee, this is Scottie. Scottie - "

"It's Scott." The kid said, cutting off his introduction. Lee's grin grew wider.

"Scott, man, you surf?" Alex rolled his eyes. Of course that would be the first thing the man would ask. Scott just looked taken aback.

"Ummm. No. I never learnt."

Lee shook his head sadly, not knowing Scott couldn't see him. "Look, I've come to admire you, brah, but this is a blow man. How could you not teach your own brother how to surf?" It took a second for Alex to realise Lee was talking to him.

"Scott's not my brother."

The man frowned, looking the kid up and down. "Sister?"

" _He's_ not related to me at all."

"Are you sure man? You guys practically have the same jaw line and nose."

"I'm sure." Even so, Alex glanced over to Scott. He didn't really know if he had any blood relatives still alive, and the kid did mention he used to live in Alaska. Alex shook his head. Lee must of smoked too much. They didn't look a thing like each other.

" _OK_ then. Grab a stick 'n' a sausage and tell me the wild story of how you two met." Alex did what he said, grabbing two of the sticks and loading them up. Then he passed one to Scott. Luckily, he didn't have to explain to the kid how a campfire worked. He sat down and thrust it into the flames. He took a swig of beer as he did so, his face still scrunching up. Alex took a seat between him and Lee.

"It's not that much of a wild story." A lie but Alex sure as hell wasn't going to tell him they were mutants. That was definitely third date kind of thing. He wasn't even going to mention they met in prison.

"Then make something up."

"We met in the Space Centre." It was Scott who said that. Quickly, face towards fire. Clearly he didn't want to mention prison either and didn't want to risk Alex giving it up. He made a note to teach the kid how to lie sometime. Luckily, Lee wasn't bothered by the obvious fabrication.

"Man, I love the Space Centre. That room with all the stars. It's like being outdoors _indoors_!" Alex rolled his eyes. "I read all my dad's sci-fi mags. I can't wait till we go to the moon and I can live on it. I'm saving up for a house already."

"One problem there isn't any water on the moon. You can't surf." Alex pointed out. Lee looked at him, eyes large.

"Aww _shit_. I never thought about that. I'm going to have to wait in till we colonise a planet with a sea."

Alex chuckled and turned his sausage around. "Me, I'm staying on Earth. Leaving the atmosphere just seems wrong."

"My dad was in the space program." Scott said, suddenly. "He was a test pilot. But he was going to go into space one day."

Alex looked at Scott. The kid had never mentioned his family before. "Really?"

The kid turned to him. "Really what?"

"About your dad."

"I don't remember my dad." Alex stared. This kid...

"Right." He pulled his sausage out the fire. The outside had been completely charred black. He took that as a sign it was done. He blew on it. He looked over at Scott's. Unlike his own, it was brown all over. What the kid lacked in lying skills, he made up in being able to cook.

"Kid, your food is done." The kid pulled it out, prodding it with a finger to see if Alex was telling the truth. He cursed as it burnt his flesh. "Oh yeah, and it's also _hot_."

Alex looked back at his own food - only to find he wasn't the only one. His dinner was only millimetres away from large salivating jaws. With reflexes gained by training with Division X, he snatched it away.

"Bad dog!" He scowled. The beast, sensing defeat, moved backwards, changing his tactic. It pulled out big eyes and whined sorrowfully at him. But it had nothing on Scott, and it wasn't long before it worked out he wasn't going to budge. It left to find its next victim, tail between legs.

"Damn strays. Always hanging around. Any beach party in the country and there is always one." Listening to Lee, Alex couldn't help but think the dog wasn't the only one here. Homeless and scrounging food applied to Scott and him as well. Hell, they didn't even have a car anymore. Alex took another swig of beer and let his friend carry on chatting.

On his third helping, as Alex looked around, he saw the dog had found a new victim. Pulling his stick out the fire, Scott ripped the sausage in half. One side was given to the animal, the other for himself. In less than a second both sides were eaten up. The bun was also distributed that way. Seeing Scott and the dog together was slightly eerie. Both were skinny, with long shaggy hair and a slightly mangy look to them, with a long mournful face that seemed to default on miserable. It was like one of those spot the difference games he had played when he was young.

After the food was gone, Scott began to stroke the dog. If he thought he could keep it, he would be in for a shock... if Alex could resist two pleading puppy-dog faces.

Four beers later if Scott asked Alex would of let him keep the dog. Hell he would let the kid keep an elephant. The only thing that was really important was explaining to Lee the best way to make your own surf board out of a broken plank.

"It _is_ possible. You just have to - "

"Nah brah. It's not. You'll have better luck just standing there and jumping when a wave comes."

"Ain't so!"

"Is so. And you're drunk."

Alex picked up his fourth can quickly. A little too quickly. Beer sloshed on his shirt. "I've only had _three_!" He protested, trying his damn hardest not to slur.

"And one of those was Mick's home brewed stuff. I'm surprised you're still conscious!"

Alex pulled a face and went to take another swig. However Lee was faster. He snatched the can out of the mutants hand - spilling more of the liquid on Alex's top - and downed it. Once it was finished he crushed it against his forehead and threw it over his shoulder.

"I'm cutting you off." He announced.

"You're not my mother."

"Thank God for that. Now, don't look now but I think your friend is in luck."

Alex turned his head as fast as he could - and regretted it immediately. The world spun and danced in front of him. But as it slowed down he saw a girl leading Scott away from the fire.

"GO SCOTTIE!" Alex yelled, as loudly as he could. While he couldn't see the boy's reaction, his mind's eye supplied him a satisfying image of him turning a bright red. Giggling he turned back to Lee. But the moment their eyes met, his laughter died. "Fucking typical isn't it?"

"What is?"

"I don't get any since I let that kid tag along, but he stumbles across it by accident. Probably the first time he's had company that isn't his right hand."

"So why let him tag along?" Alex lent backwards onto his arms, which were against the sand. Slowly he sucked air between his teeth.

"I dunno. He was in trouble. I know the feeling. So I helped him out. And I kind of liked him being there, y'know? It's kind of lonely being on the road without anyone else. Like, I would say he wouldn't last a day on his own, but he would. Hell, might even do a better job with some of the shit I got us involved in. I'm just waiting for him to realise what a fuck up I am and leave."

Lee leant forward. If Alex was sober it would be too close. Drunk his personal bubble had popped. "But why were you running in the first place? Sounds like you had a pretty sweat deal before your road trip."

"It was like living in a hospice. Everyone was just hanging around waiting to die. So I got a car and drove. Freedom. Home was where ever the hell I happened to be."

"Running from a living death? I'll drink to that."

"So would I if I hadn't been cut off." Their conversation from seconds ago was forgotten. Alex was joking, a grin on his face. "Now what we need is whiskey. I had a friend who could - "

 "You fucking _freak_! You sick-o." Alex cut off, turning towards the noise. A girl was coming towards them, shouting over her shoulder. Short skirt and long _long_ legs and brilliant red hair. Looking at her, Alex got a couple of ideas of what he'll like to do with her. Lee poked him in the side, hard.

"Ow," Alex complained. He was still looking at the girl. He wanted to go up and comfort her but someone had already beaten him. He could turn the man with his arm around her into dust, and for a second he considered it, before remembering killer mutant wasn't exactly a turn on.

"That's the girl Scott left with." Lee said, flicking his fingers in front of Alex's face.

"Are you sure? She's outta his lead. She's an eleven while Scott is like, in the minus numbers."

"Maybe you should see what's wrong."

Alex sighed. "I wanna. But that _loser_ got their first. I could beat him hands down, 'specially with - "

"No man. I mean with Scott. Tell him woman didn't like it when you ask them to do creepy stuff. Happens to the best of us. That kind of bull."

"Kid's trouble man. You know I was able to get some before he came along! Do you like cheeseburgers? Cos you won't after eatin' 'em every other meal."

Lee rolled his eyes, pushing Alex a bit harder than he meant to. In his drunken state, he nearly fell to the floor. "Sort it out."

It took Alex a second to get himself together enough to remember how to stand. When he finally did, the world spun. Putting one foot in front of the other didn't seem very effective, but he couldn't remember if there was another way of walking. Somehow he still managed to get to Scott. He collapsed onto the ground next to the hunched up figure. Turns out sand was hard when your head hit it from a height. He breathed in the sea air, looked at the stars shinning like diamonds in the sky and wondered the best way to broach the topic.

"What the fuck did you do Scott?" The boy flinched next to him, and Alex decided to never become a diplomat.

"Umm... " began Scott. Wolfie was in his mouth like a chew toy.

"You didn't get Wolfie out when you were... " He waggled his eyebrows impressively. He was annoyed Scott wasn't able to appreciate it. Scott pulled a face at his comment.

"No!"

"And you didn't mention your - " Alex leant forward, like they were conspirators, "you know what?"

"No!"

"So what was it then? Do you just have a really small dick?"

Scott opened his mouth before closing it and looking away. "Something like that." He muttered.

Alex whooped with laughter. He ruffled the boy's hair. "Well Scottie, there's nothing I can do to help you with that."

Scott was not going to join in with his laughter. He was still frowning. But Alex was too drunk to care - or even notice. He was still chuckling when Lee came over. He was a small guy, but looming over them with the sky spinning in a nauseous way behind his head, made him seem so much bigger.

"Do you know why he got rejected?" Alex said through giggles.

"I do." Lee wasn't laughing. He too had a serious face.

"Look, man - " He began, but Lee cut him off.

"I'm sorry Al but your friend has got to go. And it'll probably be best if you go as well."

Suddenly, Alex didn't feel like laughing anymore. "Why would - "

"Oh don't act so naive, you're not fooling anyone. We know what _she_ is and no doubt you're as much of a freak. I can't believe - "

The next thing Alex felt was a pain in his knuckles. He could blow this whole beach to dust but in that moment he had wanted to feel his victim's face under his hand. He stood up, shaking his hand out. It had only just healed, but the pain was worth it to see Lee on the floor, clutching his nose in pain.

"Want to call me a freak again?" Alex asked. Behind him, Scott grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Alex tried to shake him off, but the damn kid was like a monkey. "The man just called you a freak Scott, are you just going to let him get away with it?"

For a second Scott froze, then he began to pull at Alex's arm again. "We've got to go." He shouted. And, as Alex looked up, he could see why he was so insistent. A crowd was beginning to form. Finally the rational part of Alex's mind kicked in, and at one last satisfying smirk at the crumpled figure on the floor, he let himself follow Scott's lead.

People yelled at them, but Scott's grip was iron around his bicep. Together they ran down the beach in till Alex tripped over his own feet. He crashed head first into the sand, and decided they had gone far enough.

"Let's sleep here tonight." He slurred, trying to bury himself in the still warm sand.

"Here?" Scott asked, sceptically, but Alex still heard the boy sit down next to him. They were both still panting.

"Uh-huh." Alex awkwardly pulled his backpack off, before rolling onto his back so the stars shone over his head. In the distance, he could hear the waves crashing on the beach. This was paradise.

"I'm sorry." Alex jumped. He'd forgot Scott was there. The kid had a way of fading into nothing if you stopped thinking about him for a second. A boy like Scott could easily disappear and nobody would remember he ever existed.

"You should stop apologising. It doesn't suit anyone. Anyway they should be the one apologising. Bigoted jerks."

Scott twiddled with Wolfie absentmindedly. "They're right though," he whispered, head bowed low. "I am a freak."

Alex looked at him sharply. He could disagree. Lie through his teeth. Repeat one of Xavier's oh so interesting lectures about evolution. Instead he cracked a wide grin and lent forward, punching the boy's shoulder lightly. "We're all freaks here Scottie."

If Alex could see Scott's eyes he was pretty sure he would be on a receiving end of a death glare. "You're drunk Alex."

He rolled his eyes. "Hell yeah I'm drunk. And you'll appreciate it a lot more if you were drunk as well."

"Appreciate what a lot more?" But Alex didn't answer. Instead he began to rustle around in his back. He cursed slightly. "What are you doing?"

Alex held up one hand, carrying on the search one handed. "They should be close to the top..."

Scott sighed in the way parents sigh when they were nearing breaking point with their particularly difficult toddler. "What should be close to the top?"

At that moment, Alex's hand closed around the cylindrical shape of a beer can. He pressed it to Scott's hand, laughing as the boy jumped from the lower temperature. "Got caught in my trouser leg."

Alex pulled out another and opened it. He took a couple of long swigs. On this beach, at this moment, he was invincible. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it into his mouth. Shielding it from the nonexistent wind he tried to light it, desperate to get a nicotine hit into his system.

Scott sighed. He took the lighter out of Alex's clumsy fingers and struck it himself. The gas caught at once and the flame danced like a beacon in the night. Scott lit Alex's cig before 'looking' at him pointedly. It took Alex a moment of clueless staring before he got it. He looked around, trying to remember where he deposited the packet. Scott would of probably had more luck just doing one of his blind searches. At least they had some method. Just as Alex was about to give up he found it lodged under his leg, one side flattened. He passed it to Scott to pulled one out and lit it immediately.

"Give it back. I don't want it disappearing into your pocket with all the other crap you steal." Alex demanded, holding out his hand. The cigarette packet, which had been travelling towards Scott's trouser pocket, took a change of direction and was placed in Alex's hand. He then threw it carelessly back down onto the sandy floor again.

"Like you're the one to talk." Scott said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"There wasn't any beer in this bag this morning. You took it from the fire." As if to prove his point, Scott took a swig out his can.

"You looked through my bag?" Alex was outraged and not at all surprised. Kid probably knew which underpants he was wearing. Then again, he was currently only wearing underpants, so the whole beach knew.

"You're a thief!" Scott pointed out, sounding equally as outraged.

"Well at least I'm a thief who can get laid." Scott's mouth snapped shut and his nostrils flared and even drunk, Alex knew he crossed a line. "Too soon?" He tried to joke. Scott's head flopped down and he hugged his knees to his chest.

"This is so fucked up," he muttered. Alex wasn't sure if Scott was talking about himself or the world in general so he gave a noncommittal "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I'm probably the only teenager who has even dreamed of going to school and having a stable income and - and being able to open my fucking eyes without _killing_ everyone I fucking _look_ at."

"Just part of being a mutant I guess. Well, not the school thing, but the killing thing."

Scott sighed. "Does it get better?"

Alex laughed. "Doesn't look like it. For a while I thought it would be OK. I met some people who, well, were willing to take a complete fuck up like me and - well, looking back, I know they just wanted to make us all soldiers in a war that I didn't even know existed yet. But back then I thought they were just going to help me. I met other people like me. They taught me how to control my powers. Kind of. For the first time I could let down my guard and just relax. Not for long, and not in front of people. But it felt nice to not feel like I was going to explode every minute of every day.

"But then - then it all crashed. Just like everything else. I don't know why I thought it would be different. And I had to start moving again. And then I met you, and you were in trouble too. I guess you reminded me of myself, though I like to think I was never that fucked up. I was, though, after Hayley and Vincent. And after Darwin, though I was better at hiding it by that point. And - and I don't think there had ever been a mutant who isn't slightly fucked up. Maybe it's just how we're born. Have a power, lose a screw."

He laughed hollowly again, and it seemed to echo around the beach. Scott didn't say anything in reply. Alex wasn't surprised. What do you say when someone tells the truth? That it doesn't get better? That right now, drunk on a beach with no home to go to and no idea how you are going to eat tomorrow, had a good chance of being the best moment of your life?

He threw his cigarette on the ground, only half finished, and drank the rest of his can in one. When it finished it joined his still smoking butt on the floor. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth he burped before laying back on the floor.

The stars and the moon gazed down. They didn't give a shit about the war being fought down here. He envied them. He wished he could lift off the ground. Start floating. Up, up and away from here. Now that would be a power. He'd trade his death rays with the ability to fly any day. He closed his eyes, and at some point his wishful daydream became a reality in sleep.

*

Alex woke to his head pounding and his mouth tasting like an old ashtray. The oppressive sun beat down on him, making his eyelids shine red. He rolled over onto his front, trying to get away. Sand covered his face. He felt like he was going to puke. He groaned, pitifully. He couldn't get back to sleep. Already the sun was too hot. As it got to midday it would be unbearable.

He slowly stood up, brushing sand from where it had stuck to his face with sweat. He tried to spit it out his mouth and blow it out his nose with little success. Stretching, he realised he was still only wearing his underwear. He couldn't bring himself to care. He looked around. The beach was still fairly empty, and he wondered how early it was. Scott was curled up like a puppy, Wolfie in one hand. _Lucky asshole_ , Alex thought, _his tape blocks out the sun_. Littered around them was empty cans and cigarette butts.

"Most of been a good night." He joked. His sleeping companion didn't even twitch. This must of been the first time he saw Scott sleep when he wasn't having a nightmare. He looked peaceful, but like the peace after a storm. Trees ripped up, houses destroyed and whole lives ruined or completely snuffed out, the remaining people trapped in a horror filled grief. Alex looked away, it was hard to watch him for long.

Due to a lack of anything else to do, Alex strolled forward confidently and didn't stop in till the sea came up to his waist. It was still cool from the night before, and he gasped in shock. He plunged his head under, the taste of cigarettes replaced by salt as the sea water swirled into his mouth. Smoke from a still lit fire trailed lazily into the sky. The same one Alex helped build yesterday. With childish glee he raised a middle finger at it. The details were a hazy blur but he could vaguely remember running from the place whooping with joy.

After a couple of 'lengths' up and down the shore, Alex's stomach demanded to be fed. Deciding that Scott had enough of a lie in, Alex got out the sea. He shook himself off like a dog, his damp shoulder length hair whipping the side of his face. He approached the boy and poked the boy. Scott rolled away and stayed asleep.

"OI!" He yelled. Scott jumped up faster than his eyes could follow. He seemed asleep on his feet.

"Why did you do that?" he grumbled.

"I'm _hungry_." Sometimes, Alex's ability to sound like a bratty five year old amazed even him.

"And?" To think there was a time when Alex had wanted Scott to be more confident...

"And we're going to get food."

Scott sighed, but as Alex suspected, he was not yet at the point of refusing a meal just to be a whiney jerk. Alex pulled on his shorts, before picking up his sand filled shoes and draining them out. He then put them on sockless, not bothering to do the shoe laces. He left the empty cans lying on the beach, but the flat - he must of slept on it - cigarette packet was placed in the bag. He would need one after a fry up.

They walked slowly off the beach and onto the road. Neither felt like talking. They looked out of place at this time of the morning. Everyone else seemed to be in business suits, walking along purposefully, a newspaper tucked under one arm. Alex didn't know how they could wear those clothes in this heat - he was just in shorts and he was uncomfortably hot! Like in all big cities, nobody gave them a second glance, though they did get a couple of "hurry up" before a rude push past. 

Soon Alex found a diner. While it looked a lot better than most of the places Scott and him had eaten in during this trip, it still had that slight greasy unwashed quality. They took a booth table, and Alex order two full American breakfasts, not giving Scott a choice. If he saw a cheeseburger in this condition, he would ruin the faded red seat coverings and he did not have the money to pay for the damages. Scott didn't complain. In fact, it seemed like he was falling asleep in his chair. As his head dropped, his hair spilt onto the table like a pool of dirty water.

The rest of the customers in the diner were in a similar state. A couple of lone figures were leaning over their own greasy meals. One particularly haggard man had a cup of coffee between his hands. Lost his job or his wife, Alex mused but not for long. Thoughts were having a hard time staying in his head.

It seemed like only seconds had passed before their meal was placed in front of them with a loud bang. The waitress was not in a good state as well. Large bags under her eyes, a puffy face, and a lit cigarette hanging out the corner of her mouth. Her pink and white uniform seemed to highlight her heavy weight, and was stretched and stained. Alex grunted a thanks to her, and she scowled. The deep lines etched into her face said she did that a lot.

Alex took his time with his meal. With the first couple of mouthfuls he was worried it wasn't going to stay down but he got into it. Finally what was left was the cold burnt mushrooms - and who the hell put mushrooms in a breakfast? - which leaked brown oil all over his plate. He scrapped them off his plate onto Scott's, who wolfed them down like he didn't know they were disgusting. At least the kid seemed more awake now.

Alex sighed, brushing a greasy hand through his still damp hair. Awkwardly, with a body that didn't want to obey him, he slid out the booth and stood up. Scott followed the movement like a dog with his owner. Alex shook his head.

"Going for a leak. After we leave we can find a room, get some proper Zs."

Scott nodded, flopping back down onto the seat. Sleeping on the beach really didn't suit him. Alex moved towards the men's room. He was barely looking at any one else, and that was why he didn't notice in till he was half way across the room everyone was frozen.

_It's time to come home._

*

_It's time to come home._

Crash.

Alex spun around. Scott had pulled himself free of the dining seats. Breathing heavily. Wolfie in hand. Low on the ground. Defensive. Alex cursed Xavier's need to be so damn dramatic.

"Scott!" He shouted, but the boy didn't hear him. He was already making his way towards the door. Alex's long strides easily caught up with him. "Scott, it's OK. He's - "

Scott collapsed into his arms, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Alex swore out loud, then in his head so the Professor could hear.

_What the fuck did you do that for_? Alex thought wildly. He tried to find the boy's pulse. While he knew Xavier would not deliberately hurt anyone, it was still disturbing to see someone just drop like that.

_She'll be fine. I need you to bring her to the car now_. Alex rolled his eyes. Did all that alcohol knock of couple of IQ points off him?

_I'm sure nobody will do anything about me placing an unconscious teenager into a car._ Alex hoped sarcasm worked in telepathic conversations.

_I've frozen all those around you. Nobody will stop you._

Alex looked at Scott, before biting his lip and sighing. He didn't have a choice. After all Xavier could just make him do it. This offer was just courtesy. He picked Scott up, bridal style. The boy's head fell backwards, exposing a slim pale neck. Even though his layers - and really, how could Scott wear his thick jumper in this heat? - he could still feel the kid's bones.

He had to go sideways out the door so he wouldn't hurt Scott. As he turned around he saw a car waiting for them, just like Xavier had said would be. The frozen figures dotted around the street gave Alex the heebie-jeebies, and he opted to look at the shiny blue and white Chevy passenger car in front of them. Not exactly the Rolls Royce he thought the Professor would go for.

As Alex got to the backdoors and was trying to work out the best way of opening it without dropping Scott onto the sidewalk, the front door open and an attractive woman of about thirty stepped out. In a zombie like state, she came towards them and opened the door. Alex lay Scott carefully along the bench seat. As long as their driver didn't break too hard he should be fine. Then she opened the next door, closer to the front, before slamming the other one, trapping Scott, unconscious, inside. Alex saw Xavier sitting on the opposite side and slide in. He looked in hell of a better shape than last time he saw him. Suit on, hair cut and stubble shaved. Alex could only catch the faintest whiff of alcohol on his person.

Alex shut his door, hard. The whole van shook slightly and he couldn't stop the smirk on his face. Next to him, the Professor raised two fingers to his forehead. Alex was pretty sure he didn't have to do this, and the man just liked to show off.

"To the airport please, Thelma." He did like to phrase everything like the person he was talking to had a choice. Give an illusion of the person having power. Sometimes Alex wondered how many times Xavier nudged him into doing something. Other times he just thought he was being paranoid. And other other times he wondered if it was the Professor who was making him think that.

The car slide out onto the road, and all around them the city became alive like nothing had happened at all. Professor Xavier then turned to look at him. "Hello Alex."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You shouldn't of knocked Scott out. I could of convinced him you were a friend."

Charles sighed. "There is only so long I can hold a group that large frozen and we just didn't have the time."

"And what was so urgent it couldn't be resolved without kidnapping a teenage boy?"

"That teenage is not who you think she is. She's dangerous."

Alex snorted. "We're mutants, we're all dangerous. And she's a he."

Xavier shook his head softly. "No, Alex, she is not. I have her files. The FBI - "

"Shit. Did you just say FBI?" Alex didn't know if the frown was aimed at him due to the curse or the interruption.

"Indeed. In fact, they have a whole department dedicated to mutants. I am the consultant." He sounded smug about it. "Paulette's - "

Alex frowned. "Whose Paulette?"

"The girl you know as Scott."

"Why would Scott claim he's called Scott if he's actually called Paulette? Why would he claim he's a boy if he's actually a girl? Are you sure your information's right? Like I think I would know if I was road tripping with a chick."

Professor Xavier sighed. "I will not know in till I talk to her. Now can I carry on?" Alex nodded, feeling like a scolded school child. "All the files on the child and you at the police station you, ehem, were held at have been wiped, and the police seem to have no memory of her at all. However the FBI have been tracking her since she first used her mutant power in public. They have their theories on what happened, however I believe this was not all her fault."

The mention of the FBI made it seem so serious. To think, while him and Scott - he couldn't think of him as anything else, he was sure the Prof was wrong - were travelling across the country, agents were looking into his passenger's life.

"He mentioned a telepath." Xavier's head snapped to him so fast, Alex wouldn't be surprised if he got whiplash.

"Emma Frost?" Alex shook his head.

"I don't think so. Scott said 'he'. But then Scott said he was a he, so he might just not know pronouns."

Xavier didn't laugh but rather dropped his head down slightly. Alex suspected the man still thought Erik saveable. That he could drag him back to the side of the angels with a civil conversation over tea, or whatever those two did together. Clearly he hadn't been keeping track of the news : Magneto stopped caring about humanity long before that beach in Cuba.

"I suspected a telepath might be involved. I had hoped it was a secondary mutation of hers, rather than an outside force. That is not a comforting thought at all."

The Professor settled in silence, no doubt thinking about what Alex had just told him. Before too long, they pulled into the airport. The driver let them out. As Alex picked up Scott once again, the Professor got into his wheelchair. He gave the woman a gracious amount of money - o to be that rich - and once they were far enough away, he released his grip on her. Looking over his shoulder, Alex saw the woman shaking her head in complete confusion, before getting back into her Chevy. It drove off. Alex hoped she didn't have anything she needed to do urgently.

They moved towards the airport doors, Xavier leading the way. It was a small private place. While few people were around, nobody even looked twice at their little group. Alex wondered if it was the Prof's doing ,or if rich men transported unconscious children all the time. Both options made him nervous. Above them a plane rumbled over head. He tried to ignore it.

Before long they were at the airstrip. They headed straight towards the Blackbird. It had some changes from the last time Alex had seen it. Like a lift, which Xavier wheeled onto. Alex followed. Someone must of been watching them, as they slowly began to rise without any buttons being pressed.

They were in a large, empty space, which Alex suspected was the cargo hold. He followed Xavier through an open door and found himself in the passenger section. Twelve comfortable seats were all facing forward. There were two more at the front for the pilot and co-pilot. Alex could see right out of the front windows of the plane. A furry blue head was visible over the pilot chair.

"Please don't tell me Bozo is flying this thing." Next to him, Xavier scowled. "What? Last time he flew, we crashed!"

"I was being shot at. I can guarantee you, I'll get us to New York in one piece. You won't even feel turbulence." Hank swung his chair around. When Alex thought of the other man, the first thing that came to mind was that stuttering scientist with too big feet. He really needed to remember that this Hank could rip his throat out with his teeth. As Alex saw his face, it could not help but break out in a big grin.

"It's good to see you Beast."

"As to you Havok." Hank, already having enough of this conversation, turned back to his dials and levers. Alex hoped he was better at flying a plane than make small talk, or they wouldn't last a minute. Suddenly he became aware he was still carrying Scott. He looked around awkwardly, before deciding the best thing to do would be to sit him down somewhere.

He placed him in a chair in the back row. The boy's head rolled, before falling forward. Greasy brown hair covered his face and showed the back of his pale neck. His sunglasses slipped off his face and fell into his lap. Alex picked them up and hooked them onto Scott's jumper.

"Professor X - "

"I would prefer if you called me Charles." Alex ignored him. No way was he ever going to feel comfortable enough to call him that.

" - Can you wake him up?"

Alex couldn't see his face, but from the man's tone, he guessed it would be a concerned frown.  "I do not believe that will be for the best. She is a powerful mutant, who may not be in control of her power. It will be better to wake her up somewhere she can't do damage if she panics."

_And whose fault would that be?_ Alex thought, before remembering that Xavier would of heard that as clearly as if he said it out loud.

"Take a seat Alex." He said, stiffly.

He hesitated. He wished he could say it was about Scott - and the part of him who wanted to be a good guy would insist it was - but really he just didn't want to fly. "Scott really likes planes. It would be a shame for - "

"If _Paulette_ wants to stay in Westchester she will have plenty of opportunities to explore and maybe even fly the Blackbird if she desires. Now, Alex, sit down."

He did up Scott's seat belt, before taking his own seat next to him. His hands clutched the arm rest so hard his knuckles turned white. He tried to think of something - anything - else. But as the front wheels began to lift off the runway, he just found himself thinking about falling to Earth, screaming, as the plane burned above.

*

Paulette Summers.

Alex stared at it for a second. A coincidence. A strange fucked up coincidence that didn't even mean anything because it wasn't Scott anyway.

Except she looked like Scott, from the photograph. It was black and white, set against a grey background. Her hair was dark, and short. And she had eyes. Alex knew the kid in the seat next to him had eyes too under those layers of tape, it was just strange to see them. They looked completely black in the image. He held it up against Scott's face, comparing the two.

It was Scott. Scott was Paulette Summers. Scott had lied to him. He understood the name change - the kid was on the run from the FBI after all. But why had he claimed he was a boy? No matter how long he thought about it, he couldn't work out why.

He wondered if he should read the rest of the file in his hands. He would be pissed if anyone had read his. He found himself flicking the page open.

Born in 1950 in Nebraska - not 1942 and not Alaska like Scott had said. That would make him - her - fourteen. Parents died when she was 8, in a plane crash. Both were in the military - not the air force and no mention of the space program. Coma for a year. Brain damage. Memory problems. Didn't fit in well. A couple of foster placements that ended badly. And a mention that she was mentally ill and believed herself to be male. Not much more was said on it, just a brief comment that treatments had been unsuccessful. Alex was glad he didn't know what those 'treatments' had been.

The rest was newspaper reports or grainy CCTV footage of Scott's powers. It looked like the kid had shot his way across the country. A police report of a break in caught his eye, and he picked it up. It mentioned how the crime scene had diamonds on the floor, however they were unsure how they go on the floor of a chemical lab. _Have you ever seen a diamond break?_ Alex put it down. He flicked past, noting as it got closer to the end he saw they had started logging his power uses as well.

 By the time he put down the file, he was more confused than when he picked it up. So Paulette was a girl who thought she was a boy called Scott. And Scott was a mutant who Alex found in a police station and let tag along.

He made up his mind. He was going to be Scott. Not because it was what the kid wanted, but because Paulette was his sister.

*

The trip couldn't end soon enough, and that damn file given to him to 'take his mind off it' did little to help. As Alex stepped off the plane and into the privately owned hanger, he released what felt like his  first breath in hours. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before allowing Xavier to guide him out.

To get to the mansion, they had to go through the grounds. The sight of the place made him Alex pause for a second. He had forgotten how big the place was. They walked through the grand front doors. Large ceilings, rooms barely entered and strange decorations which he could only guess was a English thing. Finally they got to a living room which Alex could vaguely remember from his stay. Here, they had gathered around the TV, watching the news report that could of signalled the end of the world.

Scott was placed on the sofa. The boy couldn't of looked more out of place. Too big jumper, grimy face and every bone showing. It was lucky Xavier wasn't banishing them to the shed so they wouldn't mess up his interiors.

Alex got an armchair and pulled it closer to Scott's bed, wincing as the feet scrapped loudly against the polished wooden floor. He sunk into a luxury that motels couldn't even dream of. Xavier, too, wheeled on close. Scott's file was on his lap. Only Beast hung back, taking up the whole door way awkwardly. He wanted to come in, but he wasn't sure if he couldn't.

"I'll just - " he jerked his thumb vaguely behind him. "I don't want to freak anyone out."

"He can't see you Bozo. He won't know you're blue."

Xavier frowned at him, and Alex wondered if he was already regretting bring him back. "Hank I do think it will be best if you're not here. While she won't be able to see your unusual form - " a snort from Alex which got him another glare, " - I don't think it would be wise to have too many people here."

Alex agreed. One thing that made Scott shrivel up faster than an erection in a cold shower was questions, and Hank liked to fire them off like gunshots. Only his were usually along the lines off "Can I get a sample of your urine?" rather than Xavier's "And what are your traumas?"

"Just call me if you need anything." And then he was gone. Dismissed.

Alex leant forward, twisting his body so he was looking at the man. "So are you going to wake him up or what?"

The Professor brought his hand to his temple, not breaking his eyes away from the sleeping figure. A second of silence. He would of been able to hear a pin drop. Then -

A gasp. Wild. Panicked. Scott sat up straight. Crashing into the end of the sofa. Wolfie in hands. Heavy breathing. Like a cage animal.

Before Xavier could do something that would make the kid run for the hills - like send him a damn mind message - Alex spoke.

"Hey Scottie."

The boy's head cocked, and he turned to face him. "Al-Alex?"

"Uh-huh. I'm here and so is my... _friend_." Not exactly the truth. But what was Xavier to him? His teacher, general or bailer? None of those would put the boy at ease.

"What happened? I remember - " Scott broke off, his breathing getting quicker, even more panicked. Alex wondered if the kid got anxiety attacks. He put his hand on his shoulder, hoping to ground him.

"You're OK. The man you heard in your head is my friend." He carried on muttering along those lines in till Scott's breathing had normalised. "He won't hurt you."

"What does he want then?"

Alex looked over to Xavier, signalling it was his time to take over. "I want to help you control your powers." The man said, calmly.

"I won't hurt anyone for you. I'm not a weapon." Scott quickly said, shaking his head.

"Of course you're not. You're a teenager with a power you can't control. I want to help you so you can lead a normal life."

The Prof sounded so sincere, that for a second even Alex believed him. But then he remembered he said pretty much the same thing to him, and he still ended up on that damn beach in Cuba. As for a normal life, not even a genie could grant a mutant that. But that was the phrase that drew the kid in. He repeated it like it was a prayer.

"It won't be easy," Xavier warned him. "But with hard work and dedication, yes a normal life will be possible."

For a moment, Scott looked won over. Then he shook his head. "No."

Xavier blinked. He looked completely confused, and Alex thought people should refuse him more often. "No?"

"It won't work. I can't control it. They told me I - I'm - _broken_."

"Who told you that?"

Scott's hand closed around Wolfie, mouth in a deep frown. "I don't - doctors, I think. And on my file, it says - that's why nobody wanted to - "

He cut off, and the Professor nodded thoughtfully. "Your brain damage."

Scott's head flew up. "How did you - my file." The last sound was a sigh of resigned fate.

"Yes."

Scott hesitated, and Xavier nodded him on. It was must be annoying for a telepath, who can usually take everything he needed, to not know something. He seemed to be keeping out of Scott's head, or maybe it was as jumbled his words. "It's wrong."

"Pardon?"

"It lies." He insisted.

"Why would they make it up?"

"I don't know. It doesn't match up - with my head - and it says I'm not Scott. It's wrong."

Xavier exchanged a glance with Alex. "Yes, I did notice that. I can help you."

Scott shook his head. He leant away, edging closer to Alex. For protection. "I don't need help. Please. Don't."

"Paulette, it's the only way to - "

Alex glared at him. "Hey, Scottie, I won't let them do anything you don't want to do." Scott's head flew around desperately.

"I don't think you should - " The Professor started to say. But Alex silenced him.

"No. He's Scott. He doesn't want your help." Xavier frowned at him, but it was completely outweighed by the grin on the boy's face. He edged towards Alex a bit more.

"Thank you." He muttered, quietly. The Professor sighed, and Alex got the feeling this wasn't over.

"Have you ever been able to control your powers?" Scott shook his head, but Xavier snapped his fingers. "Glasses." From the way the kid tried to edge even closer to him - he was nearly on his lap now -  Alex guessed the man wasn't having a mental break.

"You took that from my head." Scott made it sound so blunt, rather than outraged. He'd expected nothing more. The Prof was not giving a good impression of himself.

"Yes I did. And I am sorry." Alex snorted, getting a glare. How many glares could he get in one conversation? The man carried on in his soft voice. "Why didn't you tell me about the glasses?"

"I lost them. They can't help anymore."

"On the contrary." Scott cocked his head. "We were given all your possessions from the police station you were held in."

Did that mean he had his car keys and the $3 dollars those pigs took off him? He decided now was not the time to ask.

"Alex, why don't you pop down to Doctor McCoy's lab and get them?" You didn't have to be a telepath to know Scott's anxiety spiked. Alex felt uncomfortable. Was Xavier deliberately trying to get him away or was it just a thoughtless comment?

"Why don't you tell the good Doctor to bring them up himself?" He came back with.

"Of course." He said evenly.  Xavier closed his eyes for a second, falling into silence. When he opened them again, he had a smile on his face. "He'll be up in a moment."

While they waited nobody spoke. Alex tapped his foot on a floor to a tune he was making up as he went along. Just as he was about to burst and scream at Xavier to tell Hank to hurry the hell up, the man himself burst through the door.

Beast, the mutant superhero, was graceful and as deadly as he looked. He could move almost silently and could jump at you and you'll have no knowledge in till he was on top of you. Hank McCoy, the blue scientist, was the exact opposite. He hurried in, stumbling over his now portioned feet. He slid to a stop at the end of the sofa, his body crashing into it with a bang. In his left hand he was holding a pair of thick, red lensed glasses, that he waved excitably.

"Hello," he said nervously. "I'm Hank McCoy." He held out his hand, before remembering Scott couldn't see it and took it back, scratching his face like it was what he meant to do all along.

"Scott." The boy replied. He sounded like he was challenging someone to correct him. Xavier kept his mouth shut.

"I've got your glasses. Do they absorb your power? Or reflect it back? I've been looking them over. It wouldn't be too hard to adapt it to a visor like style, so you can release as much or as little of your power as you want. Of course, I'll have to do tests, see how your power work. How did you discover rose-quartz worked?"

Scott looked like he was struggling to take everything Hank had said in. It would be easier to work out if the man had taken a breath during his talk, but then again, what was the point of having a bigger lung capacity if you didn't use it?

"Tests." Scott whispered and Alex couldn't tell if that was a question on its own or an answer to Hank's. The Professor, unlike Beast, could tell the speed-talking was making the kid uncomfortable and he held out his hand. After a moment of blank staring, the scientist let out a loud gasp of understanding a passed the glasses over. _Genius, my ass_ , thought Alex. Xavier in turn handed them to Scott.

Alex thought, once he got his hands on them, Scott would rip the tape off his eyes in one swoop and replace it with the thick glasses. He did not. Instead, he held them in his hand, weighing them up carefully. He ran his fingers over the lenses, like he was searching for imperfections.

"Aren't you going to put them on?" It was Alex who broke first. When Hank had made him that suit for his powers, while it was as dorky as could be, he couldn't wait to put it on and never take it off again. But, he realised, Scott already had control. Better control than those glasses could provide. Tape doesn't slide off your nose, or have to be taken off at night.

Scott tucked them into the top of his jumper, next to the cheap sunglasses, the neckline sagged under the weight. He shrugged, uncomfortably. They were all disappointed. But it was his choice, and Alex couldn't blame him. What was being blind if it kept those around you safe?

Alex nudged him on the shoulder, playfully. "Well, tell me when you do. It's only fair that the first thing you see is my handsome face."

Scott snorted. If they were alone, he would of probably flipped him off. Then the boy turned to Xavier, face serious. Scott was testing the man! Seeing if he would force him to wear the glasses. The man realised this too, because he didn't pressure Scott but instead lent back in his wheelchair.

"We're all tired. Alex, can you find Scott a guest room?"

Alex stood up, and Scott jumped up next to him. He wondered if he should offer the kid his hand. This house was so big, and was difficult to work out when you could see where you were going. But a glint of red from Scott's jumper caught his eye, and his sympathies disappeared. The kid did, after all, have a choice.

Alex moved off. Scott, hand on the sofa to guide him round, followed. Before he took his hand off to travel perpendicular to the door, he turned to Xavier and Hank. He let his hair cover his eyes, and bit his lip shyly.

"Thank you." He muttered, bringing his hand up to his glasses, before hurrying off as fast as he could without crashing into anything.

*

On the fifth day since coming to the mansion, Scott came up to Alex and told him he wanted to see again.

Alex had been smoking on the front steps, having been banned from having a cigarette anywhere else in the house except for his bedroom. With the summer sunshine beating down, he decided to replenish his tan. One of the biggest advantage of his mutant power was no sun burn. Growing up, Hayley used to turn as red as a lobster. He would tease her about it no end.

The only time Alex really saw Scott at the beginning was when he was making food. That boy's real mutant power was knowing when someone was opening a can from the other side of the house. It was this, Alex decided, that inspired the Professor to hold 'diner times'. And hence everyone had to sit through half an hour of awkward small talk and silences just to make sure Scott actually ate a real meal rather than just the scraps thrown at him like a dog. Of course, Xavier saw it as an opportunity for bonding, though he never asked Alex what he did that day after he (truthfully) told him he spent it jerking off in his bedroom. Scott only shrugged and mumbled at his questions, though Hank would happily explain whatever experiment he was currently working on in scientific babble that no one could understand. If anyone asked Xavier, which they didn't, he would have to tell them he spent the day drinking and crying over his old research papers and old photographs of Raven in her non-blue form. Alex was hard pushed to remember a time when he saw Xavier sober, though it seemed to be on a more functioning level now. Alex remembered when he told Sean before Cuba "The best way is cold turkey". He needed to take his own advice.

Scott had came to him looking as miserable as ever. He was still wearing Alex's jumper - he might have to wrestle it off the kid and into the wash - but all his other clothes was Sean's. The Prof had originally told him to put on some of Raven's old clothes, but Scott was nothing but stubborn, and the older man had finally relented when it became clear he would have to man handle the boy into them himself. Then Scott would take them off anyway. Alex had thought the Irishman was a small guy in till he saw the clothes on Scott. But he looked uncomfortable at the mention of clothes shopping, and Alex suspected he would buy everything two sizes too big anyway.

He shifted foot to foot in front of Alex, who was trying to blow smoke rings with no success what so ever.

"Iwanttoputmyglasseson."

Alex blinked. "Huh?"

Scott sighed, like it was Alex's fault that he couldn't keep up with one hundred miles per hour talk. He deliberately slowed his voice down to snail pace. "I want to _see_."

"And you can't do it yourself because..." He teased. He was actually honoured that Scott wanted him there. Unless he was truly fed up with him and was going to take him out with his death eyes.

"The tape." Making a mental note to teach the kid fond teasing, Alex looked more closely at the covering. The corners were frayed and bent back. Clearly Scott had tried to removed it himself. Alex winced in sympathy. That had got to hurt.

"I'll get some hot water. It dissolves the glue." He added in response to Scott's questioning look.

He turned to go into the house, but noticed Scott dancing nervously from foot to foot. He flicked his cig on the floor, before crushing it out with his heel. He took another one at the packet and passed it to Scott.

"To calm your nerves." He hadn't needed to say anything. The boy had already put it in his mouth. He lit it. After a second of looking at him and trying to figure out what to say, Alex sighed and went inside.

Once he got to the kitchen, he filled the metal kettle full of water, before lighting the stove. Not wanting the water to boil - he didn't want to burn the tape off the kid - he left it on only while searching for a sponge. Which took longer than he planned. There was the one by the skin they used  for the washing up but the outside was dyed red from last night's soup, and Alex doubted the kid wanted that on his face. Finally he found a whole stock pile hoarded in a high cupboard by the sink. By this time the water was warm enough, and Alex took it off the stove.

Carefully he carried it outside, not wanting to spill any on himself. He must of taken longer than he thought, as Scott had finished his cig and was now just sitting on the steps. Alex took up space, as he spoke he moved his arms, as he sat he jiggled his leg. Scott was the exact opposite. He pulled himself in, making himself as small as possible. He jumped when Alex put the kettle on the step, metal on stone giving a hollow thunk.

"It's just me," he said, nothing how Scott's shoulders relaxed a little bit. Alex sat down next to him and dipped the sponge into hot water. Unable to remember if you were meant to add soap - and sure Xavier would be pissed if his tea was ruined - Alex had decided to give it a pass. He carefully began to wet the edges of the tape.

"So..." Alex ventured as he worked, "why'd you decide now was the time?"

"I want to control my power and at the moment it's controlling me."

Alex stopped dabbing. Sometimes, he wished he could look the boy in the eye. "You do want to do this right?"

"Didn't you just hear what I just said?"

"Yes - and it sounded like a copy of something Xavier would say."

Scott shrugged. "I've been spending time with him."

"You have?" Alex raised an eyebrow. He was under the impression that the man spent all his time in his bedroom. And the man still insisted on calling the kid 'Paulette' and 'she'. He began dabbing at the tape again.

"We both like the library."

"You can't even see!"

"I will be able to soon. And it's not just the books, it's the _feel_ of the place. It's comforting."

"Take your word for it, nerd." Alex was sure Scott was rolling his eyes right now. "Anyway, I thought you didn't like telepaths."

"He doesn't seem bad. And you like and trust him. And he spends time in libraries so he can't be _completely_ evil."

"So you would of liked me quicker if I hung out in libraries?"

"Do you even know which way to hold a book?"

Alex lightly pushed him on the shoulder. While there was a scowl on his face, his voice was mostly amused. "Just for that I'm not going to go easy on the removal."

Finally Alex decided it was as good as it was going to get. He picked at the corner of the bottom layer - and really, how many strips had the kid put on? - with his finger nail in till there was enough free to get a good grip on.

"Fast or slow?" Alex asked, but before Scott could answer he ripped it off. The curse Scott gave out was so loud the whole state had probably heard it. For a millisecond Alex saw tightly closed eyes, as he turned away from him and to the driveway. Then it was gone, replaced by those thick red glasses. Like the tape, they hid his eyes from the world. Alex wondered if he would ever see the whole of the kid's face again.

"It worked!" Alex cried joyfully when - well he still wasn't exactly sure what Scott could do, but the drive was still in one piece.

"I haven't opened my eyes yet." Scott sounded long suffering. "Now they are."

The drive way remained the same. He turned to Scott again, and he swore he could see a slight glow around the frames. Slowly the kid looked around, taking the whole world in around him. He finished on Alex, staring at him slightly too long for the man to feel comfortable.

"Do I have something on my face?" He finally asked. Scott looked away quickly, his cheeks turning the same colour as his glasses.

"Sorry. It's just, well, you don't look how I expected."

"I hope I look better." Scott didn't say anything. "Knew I should of shaved this morning."

Scott snorted. His left hand went up to the bridge of his glasses, pushing them closer to his face. Alex wondered if it was to do with his power pushing them off, or if it was just paranoia of them slipping down his nose. After a moment more of looking around him, staring at the cloudless sky with a wide grin on his face, he stood up and began walking up the stairs.

"Where you going?" Alex asked.

"Library."

"Nerd."

*

Sausage and mash : dull, boring and Hank McCoy must be the only person in the universe able to burn it.

"Really," said Alex, scooping up a spoonful of blackened potatoes, "I understand the sausages, but how do you burn mash? Is that even scientifically possible?"

"As a scientist I can tell you : look at the evidence in front of you and come up with your own conclusion." Hank all but snarled that out. He looked back down at his own blackened pile in despair.

"Is the only two things you can't do is make anti-mutant serum and cook _mash_?" Hank growled, showing his white teeth. Alex thought the man was going to jump across the table and rip his throat out - or fill it full of that mash, and he honestly didn't know which one would be worse - but he never got to find out. Seemingly in a different world, the Professor looked up from his plate, and said loud and clearly :

"Does anyone know where our youngest member is?"

Alex looked around the table. Sure enough, Scott was not there. The boy was so quiet, Alex could of eaten the whole meal without realising he was missing. "He told me earlier he was going to the library."

Xavier narrowed his eyes. "She's never late. I'll call her again." Xavier shut his eyes, and a minute later Scott burst through the doors looking very flustered.

"I'msorryprofessorIlosttrackoftimeitwon'thappenagainI'mverysor - "

"It's quite alright. Please take a seat." He quickly hurried forward and took his usual chair. While he could now see, Alex noticed he still felt the seat with his hands before sitting, like he was making sure it was really there. "I'm quite glad you've taken my advice."

Scott nodded, hair flopping in front of his face. It took a second for Alex to realise the man was talking about the glasses. Clearly he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Scott took a forkful of potato, shoving it into his mouth before spitting it out of his mouth in disgust.

"Manners!" The Professor exclaimed. He had not dared try his own pile yet. Alex suspected his reaction would be the same.

"Hey, Beast, you made something even Scottie won't eat!"

Scott followed Alex's gaze and stared. And stared. And stared. How the kid managed to miss the furry blue mutant in the corner of the room was anyone's guess, but now he's spotted him he couldn't stop. Maybe he should of warned him. Hank shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

"I live with you, I'm not going to turn un-blue so you can stop staring! You'll get plenty of glances!" He burst out with.

Scott looked away, the same shade as his glasses which he pushed up his nose again. His fork churned his mash. "Red." Everyone looked at him in confusion. Scott taped his glasses. "Through my glasses everything looks red."

His way of saying we're all freaks here. Hank gave him a small smile. Nothing else was said on it for the rest of the meal.

*

"May I enquire what are you doing?"

Alex jumped, the back of his head crashing on the dashboard of his latest project. He cursed, loudly, and after he pulled himself out, he saw a smug looking Hank McCoy sitting on the bonnet. He cursed again. Hank's smile grew wider, reminding Alex that as much as this big blue fur ball hated to admit it, he was closer to Alex's age than... well that older neighbour who would keep your football when it landed in their garden.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Alex asked.

"I may be large, but I still know how to tiptoe. Now would you kindly answer my question?"

Alex tapped the side of the vehicle. "Getting myself a new ride."

"If I remember correctly, you never bought back your last one."

He shrugged. "If it's that important to you, you can find it  floating around California with a new paint job."

Hank sighed, lifting up his un-shoed left foot high in the air and wriggled his toes. "My large feet make driving somewhat of a task."

Alex snorted. The guy must of made a sense of humour in that lab. For a moment they just they just looked at each other. Alex rubbed the back of his neck. If only Sean was here. He could keep up the conversation with a man - as long as it was only a man, and a female was not in sight. His social skills around chicks was appalling, but Alex had been teaching him. If the kid hadn't flown off to Ireland he would of been a heart breaker by now. But, then again, who needed social skills when you owned a freaking castle? Maybe he should of started Sean with the 'I live in a mansion' pick up line, but if he ever brought them back here, they'll run a mile when they saw his house mates.

"Well I need to get back to," he jerked his thumb at the car. Hank spread his arms out, seemingly completely at ease.

"Go ahead." After a moment of neither man moving, Alex realised he had to get used to the company. What the hell did he want? Sighing, he moved back under the dash. A mess of wires greeted him. TV and comics made this luck so easy. Then, suddenly, he got an idea. Quickly, he ducked back out again.

"You built the Blackbird right?" Alex asked, carefully.

"Yes."

"So you know your way around vehicles?"

"To some extent, yes."

"Do you, by any chance, know how to hot wire a car. Specifically, this car."

"Yes." Hank had a grin on his face which gave Alex the feeling he wasn't going to like the rest of the answer. "But why would I want to hotwire it if I could use a key?"

Alex's head snapped up. "You know where the keys are?"

"Indeed, I'm surprised you don't."

"The Professor moved them." Alex muttered.

"That never stopped you before. What with the joy riding, and the hot boxing and didn't young Banshee even take a drill to one - " Alex held up a hand.

"That last one was my car... which I brought with his money. Ok, so I don't have the best track record. Should I tell you I'm a changed man and I wouldn't dream of doing anything like that again?"

"I'm not Charles but even I know that's a lie."

He decided to bargain. "What do you want? I could take you to the city and help you pick up some skirts. Sure, you're big and blue, but I'm sure some girls dig that."

"I'll probably get lynched before we find them." Hank said dryly.

"What about some blood? Urine? Jizz?"

"Well if you're offering... But what I really want is for you to come back."

Alex blinked. "I'm just going to go to some bars! It's like you expect me to just up and leave."

"You've done it before." He opened his mouth, ready to deny his claims before he realised he couldn't. Last time he left, he didn't even say goodbye to Hank and the Professor. He just got in his car one morning and drove. It didn't really occur to him they would notice he was gone. All he knew was if he turned back he'll be going back to a tomb.

"Don't say you're getting soppy with me Beast." He finally said. "I just want to have a drink in a bar. Anyway, if I left, I'm pretty sure Xavier and Scott would hunt me down and kill me for leaving them with your cooking. That's if it doesn't kill them first."

Hank frowned, showing his pointed teeth. "I'm getting better."

Then he flipped - yes, _flipped_ , the show off - from the car. The vehicle rocked from the removal of the weight. Around his index finger a pair of car keys swung. It took all of Alex's self control to not try and snatch them off him. Hank was not only faster than him, but had quicker reactions as well. After a moment of toying with him, he handed them over.

"Be good. And don't forget to bring it back."

Alex waved him away, before jumping into the front seat of the car and trying the engine. It hummed beautifully. He exited the estate. Then he was open road, travelling towards New York City.

Alex came back on the train. Hung over and stiff from spending the night on a park bench. He lost the car keys. He couldn't even remember where he parked the damn thing. He doubted anyone would trust him ever again. That was OK, all the other cars in the garage needed a hand crank to start them.

*

Alex was lying on the bed, eyes closed, and trying to get some sleep. A knock on the door disturbed him. It was so quiet, he was sure the person outside didn't want him to answer. But he was a jerk, so he pulled himself off the bed and went to the door. Once he had opened the door, he stretched and yawned, to make a point. Maybe jerk was the wrong word, complete fucking shit head was better.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I can go." It was Scott. After all who else would it be? The Professor didn't understand the concept of knocking and Hank didn't understand the concept of people. He backed away and Alex rolled his eyes.

"You woke me now. Might as well tell me why." Scott bit his lip, before shuffling closer.

"It's three in the afternoon." He pointed out.

"I need my beauty sleep. You should try it sometime." He joked Scott pulled a face which clearly said 'fuck off'. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

Scott shuffled from foot to foot, probably trying to work out if Alex was really the guy he should talk to. "I'm hiding." He muttered, after a second.

Alex raised an eyebrow. Not an attack on the mansion. The whole place would be lit up like a Christmas tree - only with more guns - if it was. So that meant the kid was scared of someone in the building.

"Who from?"

"The Professor. He's angry."

Shit. This had to be his damn fault. Alex moved out the way, an invitation for the boy to come inside. Scott had never been in his room before. He hesitated before crossing the threshold. While Alex went back to the bed (kicking his dirty underpants under it in a manner which he hoped was discreet), Scott stayed close to the door. Rigid, like he thought a monster would suddenly appear and chase him out.

"That explains why you're not in the library."

Scott said nothing. Alex had thought their friendship, if that was the right word, had faded since coming to the mansion. They no longer spent long hours together. In fact, they hardly spoke. They had nothing in common other than death. But Scott had come to him instead of hiding in the attic or going into the woods. That showed how wrong he was.

"Xavier isn't pissed at you, he's pissed at _me_. I lost his car... again."

Scott shrugged. "I frustrate him. I know I do. He doesn't like how messed up I am. And it's my fault you lost both cars."

He laughed. "How did you figure that one out?"

"I made you bust me out of the cell. And I'm the reason you're back here."

"First thing," Alex said, raising a finger, " _nobody_ makes Alex Summers do anything. Second, your analysis is bull. Give the Prof a day or two and he'll be fine."

"If you say so." Scott said, dismissively. He looked around the room. "You're really messy."

He scowled, but the kid had a point. "Do you want me to get pissed at you as well? Then you'll have nowhere to hide."

Scott caught on that he was joking. "I could take you."

"I don't doubt it." Alex wasn't even playing along. He'd seen the kid fight. He was a monster. And if Scott jumped on his back, pulling the same trick he did with Nick, Alex wouldn't even be able to use his power. The kid knew how to fight dirty, the kind learnt on the playground rather than a ring.

Scott moved forward towards the bed, nodding at the past its best golden brown teddy bear at the end of Alex's bed. With his arms over the foot board and the blankets around his feet, the teddy looked more like a shipwreck survivor clinging on for life than a well loved toy.

"Mr. Fire Starter?" He asked.

"In the fur." Alex said as he scooped the toy up in one protective movement. If Scott was offended he didn't show it. Maybe he understood that he wasn't allowed to touch it. That is was nothing to do with trust and everything to do with sentiment. Instead Scott pulled Wolfie out his sleeve.

"Hello Mr. Fire Starter, I'm Wolfie." He moved the toy as he said it, putting on a ridiculous growly voice. For a moment all Alex could do was stare. Then he burst out laughing. It racked his body, and tears streamed from his eyes. No matter how hard he tried he could not stop.

"Fuck-ing _hell_ Sc-Scott. Never and I m-mean _never_ d-o that a-gain." He managed to get out through laughs. Wolfie disappeared back into his sleeve as Scott joined in.

Finally - after a couple of failed attempts, where he thought he was done and looked back at a giggling Scott and started up all over again - Alex managed to pull himself together. Mr. Fire Starter was placed on the bed next to him. With no spine, it crumbled down, making it look miserable.

Scott began to walk around his room, a smile still at his face, stopping when he came to Alex's wardrobe. Slowly, his hand reached out, softly picking up the framed photograph on it. Alex bit back a be careful. Scott already knew that, even if he didn't know it was the only photograph he owned of his family all together.

Alex had only been a week old when the photo was taken. Tiny, he was curled up in his mother's arms. Next to them was his dad in his Air Force uniform, with a wide grin on his face and an arm around his wife. His older sister was the other side of them. She still had long hair then, and had been forced into a dress for the event. Normally she had worn dungarees. Their mother always brought her dresses, and Paulie would mess them up on purpose. But as stubborn as her daughter, she refused to give in. In the photograph, she was on her tiptoes, trying to look at the newest member, clinging to the hem of her mother's dress.

They looked happy.

Alex knew their life together wasn't all smiles and sunshine. He could remember hazy images of his mother yelling a Paulie when she cut her long hair off with the kitchen scissors, and of getting told off for playing too roughly, and the other kids on base teasing him. And his dad stuck in his head because of The War even though Alex didn't know what it was at the time, and his mother crying on the dining room table, and Paulie screaming on the floor because of her migraines. And at the time they were terrifying, but now they were fond and _sad_. That was what life should of been like. Not what he got.

He shook his head bringing him back to the here and now. Scott was still holding the photograph, his fingers gently touching the woman's face through the thick glass. He too seemed lost in thoughts.

"Do you have a picture of your family?"

Scott jumped at Alex's voice, but his didn't drop the tightly gripped frame. He shook his head. "I don't even remember what they look like. But I think, maybe it was something like this. Is that Hayley?" He pointed at the little girl.

"No. That's my real family."

"It never stops hurting." Scott muttered quietly. He turned the photograph around. Reading the text. _Summers, 1944_. "P. Summers." He muttered softly.

"Paulette Summers. But she preferred - " He cut off, noticing the way Scott's face drained of colour. Of course, that was his name. He should of thought about that. The kid's hands began shaking and he quickly put the photograph back.

"Paulie. She preferred Paulie and it would drive your mother mad but she hated Paulette. Your dad would take her side and they would spend their time fixing up a DH.98 Mosquito. You used to steal her plane toys and she would get really angry and kick your ass every time and when she was going to join the air force and be a pilot. Only - only - " Scott stopped, seemingly coming back to himself.

"How did you know that?" That wasn't Scott's childhood. That was his. His parents died in that Mosquito. He would never forget it. He didn't know any other planes, but he knew that one. And Scott knew it too. How the hell did he know that? He wasn't angry, not yet, but it was coming. A buzz under his skin. He stood up. He was taller than the kid. Intimidating.

Scott blinked, and began backing away. "I didn't - I don't - "

Alex wasn't falling for that one. "How the fuck did you know that? Have you been doing some sort of sick research on me? Because there is no way you could just know that!"

Scott shook his head. "I'm sorry." He turned on his heels and fled.

Alex let him go, mind reeling. How could the kid know that? Alex barely remembered it! He kicked the bed frame in anger, cursing as pain burst from his foot. He collapsed onto his bed, Mr. Fire Starter clutched in his hands. Trying to calm down. Trying to work it all out. Only when he no longer felt like he was going to explode into a million pieces did he stand up again.

Carefully, lovingly, he placed the teddy back on his bed. Then he walked out the room. He needed to find the Professor.

*

If Alex was a telepath, finding Xavier would be as easy as stretching his mind throughout the building  and finding the man's psyche. But Alex's mutation allowed him to shot plasma from himself. The only way that power could be useful in a search mission was to level the whole mansion to the ground and follow the screams to any survivors. After checking God knows how many rooms, Alex was beginning to think that was a viable option.

Luckily for the Xavier family home, in God knows how many rooms plus one, he found him. The room looked like it hadn't been used in years. A thick layer of dust covered everything, the only disturbance was the man's wheel marks as he passed through. They lead to the far end, which held a large window. It looked out on the whole front of the grounds.

"I'm thinking about making this into my office." The Professor said, thoughtfully, not turning around. Alex took that as an introduction to come in. His own dust prints from his shoes followed the wheel marks in till he was next to Xavier's chair. From here, the view was even better. All green and lush, ending in a set of gold gates which shone in the sunlight. "I would need help moving the furniture, of course. And you do owe me two cars worth Alex."

As he said his name, he turned to look at him. His bright blue eyes were piercing, as Alex shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. "Yeah, um, sorry about that."

"I'll know you're sorry when you start moving my desk." But his eyes had a sparkle to them, and while Alex knew he would be moving furniture, he also knew the man forgave him. Maybe the Professor really did know what being young was like, and Raven wasn't making up the wild stories of their days in pubs. "And, Alex, no matter what you've done, please keep coming to dinner. It's just not the same without you and Paulette throwing food at each other."

Maybe Alex's face changed at the mention of that name, or maybe the Professor knew what he came for all along, as the man wheeled away from the window. He held out a hand to one of the chairs in the room. Alex gingerly sat down on it, worried it was too old to take his weight. Fortunately the Xavier's did not scrimp on price and always brought quality, and the chair did not collapse under him.

"You wanted to talk about her."

Alex nodded. He thought of the best way to proceed, while Xavier waited patiently for him to find the right words.

"Have you told Scott anything about me?" Alex winced. Trust him to start with an accusation. He knew that even if Xavier had picked it out his head, he would not of told anything else.

"Of course not."

"Then does he have some sort of telepathic power he's been hiding for us? One that even he isn't aware of?"

"If she was a telepath of any kind I would of sensed it almost immediately."

Frustrated Alex jumped up off his chair and began to pace up and down in front of the other man. The dust moved under his feet, showing the wooden floor below. A clear trail of where he'd been. "Then I don't know how he could of known!"

"Perhaps you told her and later forgot?" Xavier was leaning forward on his chair, chin supported by his hands. Alex waved this suggestion off.

"I haven't told _anyone_."

"Have you asked Paulette about this?"

 "Stop calling him that!" He snapped

"Alex, have you thought that maybe this is your problem. You refuse to accept the kid for who she is, and anything that reminds you of this - and by extension your sister - disturbs and angers you."

"Don't make me the one who's at fault here. Scott's the one telling me my life story. And as for acceptance, you're the one who refuses to call him by the fu-freaking name he wants to be called by!"

The Professor seemed unperturbed by this. "She is very confused and very scared. I refuse to indulge her fantasies. You too are confused and scared, so you are taking this out on her."

Alex threw up his hands. "No. I'm taking this out on her because she fucking knows all kinds of things about my life, and then runs out the room before I can get any answers on what the hell is happening and when I come to you, you offer no help what so ever!"

"So, what do you suggest trying?" The Professor sounded so calm. Like Alex was in school and had just messed up a science experiment that involved potatoes and water.

"I don't fucking know!" Then he paused. He couldn't ask. The Prof would surely say no. But maybe... "Can't you just read his mind. Get to the bottom of all of this."

He sighed, like he expected more but still found himself with the same incorrect answer everyone gave. "There is no 'just' about reading minds, especially one as fragile as hers."

Alex rubbed his hands over his face and tried not to feel disappointed. He just wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"The kid may come to this conclusion herself, of course. This incident you two had may in fact spur her to come to me on her own. But we cannot push her. Now, tell me Alex, how are your arms feeling? My desk is downstairs."

Not the most subtlest way of changing the subject, but it was clear no other questions would be welcome. He groaned. Really, moving furniture was probably going to be the best sentence he ever got, and it still sucked. 

"Lead the way."

*

It was not Alex's turn to wash the dishes, but due to Scott missing the last two nights of meals, he found himself elbow deep in lukewarm water. As he scrubbed the bottom of a partially troublesome burnt pan, he cursed Scott. He'd thought about what the Professor said. He still thought the man should march the kid down and read his mind so they could finally get some real answers out that messed out head of his. But he also decided to would call a truce with the kid, as long as he never ever mentioned his older sister again. Which should be easy seeing as he shouldn't know anything about Paulette anyway.

"I should be doing that."

Alex swore. Dropping the pan in surprise he caused a wave of water to rise up and soak his front. He spun around, sponge in hand, and pointed it threateningly at the sheepish Scott. He took a long breath. _Calling a truce. Calling a truce._

"Where the hell have you been?" Well, that came out more aggressive than he meant. Slowly, he lowered the sponge. "If the Prof hadn't insisted he could feel you psychically I would of thought I'll never see you again."

"I was in my bedroom." He shrugged before coming forward and taking the sponge out of Alex's hand. He moved out the way, letting the kid pass him and do what he was actually meant to be doing. The sound of water splashing as Scott scrubbed the bottom of the pan filled the room.

"Do I even know what you were doing in there?" Alex joked. Scott blushed redder than his glasses. Alex wondered if he was thinking about the incident in the motel, or if he was just that virginal. 

" _Thinking_!" he cried, and when Alex raised his eyebrows, Scott tried to clarify more. "Just thinking about, y'know, _Stuff_."

Stuff felt like it had a capital letter, and Alex knew exactly what it was. The joking - his way of calling that truce and putting the kid as ease - faded away. He didn't want to do this. He really didn't.

"Don't."

But Scott didn't listen. He scrubbed the pan harder, water falling over the sides. His hair hung over his face so Alex couldn't see his expression. "Alex - "

"Don't. Scott, whatever you want to say, _don't_. I mean it. If you ever mention any of that shit again I will kill you. That's not a joke. That is the honest to God truth. So don't."

Slowly, the boy put the pan down, and turned to look at Alex. He couldn't make eye contact through those glasses, but Alex knew he was trying.

"I'm your sister."

"No." This was a fucked up kid talking. This was someone who had an unhealthy obsession with a dead girl. It didn't make sense. None of it. He was dragging up old wounds that shouldn't be reopened. Words kept pouring from the kid's mouth, faster and faster. Each one making Alex more and more angry.

" _Yes_. I know. It sounds crazy. I wouldn't believe me. But hear me out. I have a younger brother called Alex. I thought - _they_ _said_ \- you weren't real. But you're here. Just like I always knew you were. And we were both born in Alaska. Me in '42 and you in '44. And our dad's called Christopher and our mother's Katherine Ann and we lived on the Elmendorf Base in till they got transferred to other ones across the country. And after you were born I promised Dad I would always look after you. Like the time - you must of been five - and one of the other boys at the base punched you and - "

"Stop." He knew this story already.

" - you broke his nose - "

"Stop."

" - and I told Mom that it was me - "

"STOP!"

The world turned red. Alex thought he was screaming. The boy should of been dead. He was on the floor, clothes ruined. But he was alive. Skin not even burnt. Another time that would make him stop, question. But it only made him angrier. Fuelled his rage. What _was_ he? What the fuck was he hiding?

He was on top of the boy. Was the kid awake? He didn't care. Punch to the face. A moan. Again. Again. Again. He was screaming at him. _How do you know this? What gives you the fucking right? My sister is dead! She would never be someone like you. You're sick. Ill. My sister is dead. My sister is dead. My sister is_ -

Pulled off. Big blue arms. Restraining him. Telling him to calm down. Struggling. Fighting. Can't get free. _Let me go! He's fucking sick! Why the fuck are you defending him? He deserves this!_ Fist connects. Arms only get stronger. Dragging him away.

And a body. A child's body. Lying on the floor. Face covered in blood. He should be dead. A memory. Another boy. Another body. Another death. He deserved it. Didn't he? Didn't Scott?

And then it was going. Pulled out the door. Thrown into another room. Click. Locked. Another prison. Another body. Another death. This time just dust and a hand reaching for him. Another death, on the snow. Crying. _She's dead_. Why the hell was it her? Paulette was amazing. She was going to go places. Get a husband. Get a job. Have children. Be happy and _human_. And she died for him. A fuck up. A nobody. A murder. Three dead bodies. All his fault.

Why the hell did Xavier ever let him out of prison?

*

Alex was staring blankly at the door when it opened. The whole room was a mess, though he couldn't remember smashing it up. A lone blue figure came in. For a moment Hank just stood there, looking anywhere but him. Then he moved to the chair, pulling it closer to face Alex and sat up on the back of it. Another time, Alex would call him a show off.

"Is he dead?" Alex's voice was croaky. He wondered for a moment if it was obvious he'd been crying, before pushing that thought away. It didn't really matter right now. Hank shook his head, slowly.

"He should be." As he said it he looked down at his hands. Did his voice sound as bitter as he thought? Hank gasped. Lost for words, mouth flapping open and closed. Shifting uncomfortably. Did he think Alex was going to try and finish the job? Could he stop him if he tried to?

"How can you say that?" Hank finally managed to get out. He sounded horrified. Good. He should know what a bad man Alex was. Everyone should. He wasn't shifting away from him towards the door though. Maybe the shock was making him lose control of his motor functions.

"I shot him straight on with my power. He should be dead." For the first time Alex looked up straight into his friend's (?) eyes. "What _is_ he?"

Hank sighed. Made him sound like an old man. All ready seen too much. "It seems he absorbs your power. Which is lucky for both of you."

Alex laughed. Lucky for him. He didn't have to add another dead child to his list. Except he wanted to. He tried to. His laughs turned to tears. His vision turned blurry. He wiped his hands angrily across his eyes. Hank just let him cry.

"What are you going to do with me?" He finally asked, when the flood had turned to a trickle.

"We don't know." Hank said, after a moment of consideration.

"Please, don't let me out."

"Yes. That will be for the best."

*

The scream seemed to come from everywhere.

Alex put his hands over his ears, trying block it out. No change. It seemed like it was echoing around his skull itself. He fell to his knees. His own scream joining it. It _hurt_.

Then it was gone.

It seemed to carry on ringing in his ears. His eyes watered. Shakily he stood up. That was a physic scream of pain. That was the _Professor's_ scream.

He moved towards the door. Was the mansion under attack? Magneto? No. Wouldn't somebody tell him? He tried to open it. Locked. Right. He was a prisoner. He lifted his hand up and placed it against the lock.

All he could see was Vincent, Darwin, _Scott_. His power didn't surge. He stepped back, kicking the door where the lock was. Hard. Once. Twice. And he's through. The door flying opening. Running. It came from sick bay. He didn't know how he knew that. He just did.

He flew through the door. Eyes taking everything in. The Professor sat by the side of a bed, head in hands, Hank by him. His head flew up when Alex skidded in.

"Get him out of here." Xavier barked. Hank moved forward. Alex shook his head.

"What happened? I heard - " Hank pushed him out, slamming the door behind him. Alex turned around, eye to eye. Well, as close as he could get when the other mutant was nearly 5 inches taller than him. "What just happened? I heard the Professor scream!"

Hank looked at him, before taking a step back and lent against the wall. He looked defeated. He took his glasses off his nose and wiped them with the edge of his white lab coat.

"He was in telepathic contact with Scott."

Alex stared. "What? Why?"

"Because the kid thinks you hate him and let the Professor poke about in his mind just to make you fucking happy, ok?"

He had never heard Hank swear before. He was a polite mid-western mummy's boy. Turned out all he needed was to spend some time with Havok. "Is Scott OK?"

"Like you care."

"I _do_." And he wasn't even lying. This was all his fault. He messed up everything.

"Yeah? Then why did you beat his face in?"

Alex shuffled uncomfortably. "I got mad and he - he said some things that he shouldn't of."

Hank laughed. Bitter. Cold. "And that's how you deal with it? Trying to kill him?"

"No. I didn't mean - " He scrubbed his hand over his face. "You wouldn't understand. You have a mom and dad and a set of degrees and everything you could possibly want. You don't know what it's like to have your whole life fall apart in front of you and nothing you can do will fix it back together again."

"I'm blue, Alex. I haven't talked to my parents in a year. I can't leave this mansion without Charles changing everyone's perceptions so they don't try and lynch me. I know what it's like to have a life that's crashed apart. And so does Charles. And so does Scott. So maybe instead of pushing us away, you should let us in."

Alex closed his eyes. Leant back on the wall. Slowly hit it with his head. "I've never let anyone in. I can't let anyone in."

"Well, when you're ready to, we're here."

He heard the man move. He was going to leave. That thought filled Alex with dread. He reached forward, hand grabbing blue fur. "He said he was my sister."

"I know."

" _No_. You don't. My sister - my sister is _dead_. There was a plane crash. I was six, she was eight. And there was only one parachute left. And my mom strapped us in and told us she loved us and I was six. I didn't understand that this was the end. Just everything was scary and on fire and I couldn't understand why mom wasn't coming with us. And Paulie, she was so brave, and she told me it was going to be OK. And she held onto me as we fell. And the parachute set on fire. And we fell. And fell. And I wasn't hurt badly when I landed. And later, I learnt it was because she took the worse of it. Hit her head. And I told her she couldn't fall asleep. Only I fell asleep and when I woke up they said she was dead. She died for me. And all I've done is fuck up my life since. It should of been me."

Hugging Hank was like hugging a living teddy bear. He was warm and soft and furry. Alex pressed his face into his chest, rubbing his nose against the fur, clinging on like he was a life line. Hank didn't say anything, which he was thankful for. He felt empty. And he never told anyone that. He claimed he didn't remember. He didn't want to talk about it. He could of stayed like that forever. But then the door opened.

Alex pushed himself away, embarrassed he broke down like that. He rubbed his hand over his eyes roughly and pretended he hadn't been crying.

It was the Professor. He looked between them for a long time, before turning to Hank. "Take a sample of Scott's blood."

Scott, not Paulette. Did he find something in the kid's head, or was this just to stop Alex blowing up again? He opened his mouth, but Xavier glared at him and he shut it again. Hank nodded.

"Of course." He hurried back in, leaving the two of them alone. The silence seemed to stretch for infinity.

"I'm sorry." Alex said, suddenly.

"It's not me you should be apologising to."

"I know. Can I see him?"

The Professor seemed to think it over. Probably scanning his mind. Making sure Alex wasn't going to blow up again. Slowly, he nodded. They went in together.

The sick bay had been established after the destruction of the CIA quarters. One of the pointless rooms in the house had been cleared out and refurbished with pop up camp beds and some basic medical equipment. It was only for injuries they got in training that didn't involve anything more than a first aid kit. If something serious happened, like Cuba, they would go to hospital.

Scott was lying on one of these camp beds. As Alex saw him he froze. Even clear from blood his face was a mess. Dark bruises were beginning to form. Cuts covered in butterfly bandages. The boy was asleep, but not a peaceful one. He was mumbling and twitching. Alex wanted to leave. He couldn't. Taking a deep breath he moved closer.

He could feel the other's eyes on him. Watching his every move. But he just felt sick at himself. How could he of done it? Another life, nearly snuffed out. Should of been snuffed out except for a freak miracle that he had no idea of. And what made him feel worse was the voice underneath all that, saying the boy knew too much, that he was a threat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't crush it.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, voice barely a whisper. Hank and Xavier shared a glance.

"There is something terribly wrong with Scott's mind. When I was in telepathic contact with her, I opened a door in her mind. One that I shouldn't off. It should of been done over weeks - maybe months - but I made a mistake. I should of noticed it wasn't natural."

Alex frowned. "Why would someone make a door?"

"Because there are too many memories behind it. It does not make a sense. I believe it was there to stop her questioning. But this is all speculation. Maybe once she wakes, she'll be able to tell us."

"Once she - he wakes? Is he..." He trailed off, unsure.

"Her mind is trying to process the influx of memories. I believe it would be best for her to do this by herself. I fear the last thing she needs is more interference."  

"Can he hear me? Can't people in comas sometimes hear stuff going on outside."

"I don't believe he's in a coma. While I haven't done any tests, I do - "

The Professor cut over Hank. "I don't know."

Alex nodded, before kneeling down by the side of the bed. It was close to the floor, and he had to sit in an uncomfortable squat. His hand moved forward to push back his hair, but he stopped it before it made contact. He could hear Hank breathing out in relief.

"Hey Scottie." No response. Not exactly a surprise. He felt uncomfortable doing it in front of the other men, but he doubted they would leave him alone with the boy. "I just, um, want to say, y'know, sorry for... um, yeah, sorry. And I know I've blown up on you before, but this time it was serious and I could of killed you. I would understand if you never wanted to see me again. I know I wouldn't. But I hope you get through this, and your head gets sorted out. And maybe we'll, I don't know, not laugh about it because that would be super fucked up even for us, but maybe like, be able to talk to each other again. That would be pretty cool. But I understand if you don't. So, yeah, um, sorry. And this is Alex, by the way, if you didn't know."

The kid twitched again. Mumbled something to quietly for Alex to hear. He looked around at the other two men and gave them a weak smile.

"I think Scott needs some quiet now." said the Professor. And that was a dismissal if Alex had ever heard one. He nodded, before leaving the room, casting one last long glance at the broken child in the bed.

*

He shouldn't be in here.

He really shouldn't be in here.

The Professor made it real clear that he was allowed to be anywhere but here.

He thought about leaving. Just walking out, getting the train to where ever and never coming back. He had even got to the gold estate gates. But he found he couldn't.

And now he was here. The one place he shouldn't be.

He looked down at the boy. It had been two days. Hank was getting worried. If it carried on much longer they would have to move him somewhere with specialist equipment. He didn't want that. Alex could imagine strangers in white coats prodding and poking the kid with needles and shoving tubes down his throat. Calling it strange, asking for details. And then taking him away, far from Alex and the mansion and the people who could actually help. 

He had pulled a chair into the room, and was now sitting on it. The camp bed was so low, even sitting down he had to lean down to get a decent distance from it. The IV drip stood next to him. Unable to help himself, Alex poked the boy. Nothing. Well, it was a long shot. Wolfie was on the pillow next to his face. Alex nudged it closer, so the fur was touching skin. He hoped Scott could feel it and take strength from it. Then he lent back, lighting up a cigarette. The smoke trailed lazily up towards the ceiling.

"I would offer you one, but you're slightly, y'know, in a coma." He laughed at himself, before taking another drag. "I miss the days when it was just us two against the world. It was fun. Kind of."

"Why are you here?" Alex looked up guilty at the sound of the Professor's voice. His blue eyes pierced Alex's and he had no choice but to look away.

"Surely you already know." He waved his hand in front of him face to signal telepath. No doubt that was how they older man knew he was here in the first place. Xavier sighed.

"You're scared you've damaged things between Scott and you and it can't be fixed. So you're spending time with her now, before she wakes up and you'll have to face the music."

Alex took another drag, glumly. "So, you going to send me away? Tell me to get my head out my ass?"

The Professor shook his head. "It's not my decision, it's Scott's. However I must insist you don't smoke in here."

"It's raining!" He defended, but he was glared down. He put the cig out on the bed frame. "Scott was probably appreciating it."

Xavier sighed. He did that a lot around Alex. For a guy who wanted to be a teacher, he didn't have a lot of patience with unruly teenagers.

"He can destroy his lungs all he wants while he is not in a physic coma in my sick bay." He wheeled forward till he was sitting on the other side of the bed from Alex. He looked down at the kid for a second, before turning his gaze to the butt Alex had tossed on the floor after putting it out. After a second, he got the message and picked it up, muttering about how he'll finish it later. When he looked up, Xavier had stopped glaring and doing the other thing adults tended to do around him : despairing.

"Honestly Alex, I respect that you are an adult and you can put whatever you want in your body, regardless of the health risks - which, I feel the need to remind you are very real and you are cutting your life short. However, I would be a bad friend - "

"We're friends?" Alex asked, scathingly. Xavier ignored him.

" - if I neglected to tell you that if you are not going to quit this nasty habit, you should at least start smoking ones with filters."

Alex shrugged. "Filters are for girls."

"Prolonging your life is not merely for women."

In front of them, Scott moaned something. Conversation forgotten, both men looked down at the kid. Alex wasn't expecting anything. He learnt it was better not to get your hopes up. But Scott's eyes were open and looked right at him. Well, he fancied they looked right at him, as he had no idea where the boy was looking with those glasses on, but he defiantly lifted his head in Alex's direction.

"What did you say?" Alex asked, softly. Probably, _what the fuck is that blonde asshole doing here_. As he said, it was better not to get your hopes up.

"Filters are for girls."

Alex laughed, and after a second, Scott joined in with a small smile. The Professor sighed. "What am I going to do with you two?" But he had a smile on his face as well. For a moment, he could pretend nothing had happened. That they were all completely fine. Then Xavier's face turned gave. "How are you feeling Scott?"

The boy shrugged. "OK... I think."

Alex snorted, earning himself a glare from the Professor. He ignored him. "And how are you really feeling?"

"My face hurts and my brain feels like it's been hit by a truck."

Both men winced and apologised at the same time. Xavier, though, carried on explaining.

"If your memories had been released over a sustained period of time you would of hardly noticed their re-integration. However once I opened the proverbial dam, I could not close it."

"Dam? Why was there a dam?"

"Not a real dam." Alex butted in. Scott flipped him off. Nothing seemed different between them. That was kind of messed up, but that didn't stop him feel happy about it.

"I know that!" He said, before turning back to the Professor. The man clearly didn't know which one of them to scowl at, so settled on neither.

"I had hoped you would be able to answer that. The block was quite unusual. Whoever made this dam was very skilled. It allowed you to access the memories put behind it, but details such as names, dates and faces were blurred and lost. This enables experience to be kept, with your conscious mind filling in the gaps. Much more effective than completely destroying the memories, where you, or others, may begin to question it."

"Brain damage. They - the doctors, I think - said I had brain damage and that's why I couldn't remember things."

Xavier reached over and patted the boys knee. Scott froze at the contact, but didn't actively move away. After an uncomfortable second, he removed his hand. "If you will allow me to, I can help you sort out these memories."

Scott thought it through, looking at Alex for guidance. Honestly, he wasn't keen on the idea after the mess Xavier made of it the first time. But it was Scott's choice, and he'll make sure the Professor knew he'll shot the man though the wall if he messed up again.

"You don't have to decide now."

Scott nodded. "Right. Can - can I talk to Alex?"

The Professor shifted uncomfortably. Alex spoke up. "I think everyone would feel better if he stayed."

Scott looked at him. "No, it would only make him feel better. Alex won't hurt me."

Alex wanted to laugh - it was that or cry. His face was still a mess. How could he possibly say that? Xavier looked lost for words too.

"I understood why you did it. And I'm sorry."

"No. Scottie. I should be apologising to you. I - I nearly killed you."

"And if I was in your position I would do the same. If some person came up and claimed he was my Alex - especially someone like me - I would freak out. And it was a mistake. I shouldn't of said anything."

"Scott." said Xavier, suddenly. "May I talk to you?"

They both jumped. He'd forgotten the Professor was sitting there listening in. "What's wrong?" Alex asked. He shook his head.

"Alex, you two can talk later. I need to talk to Scott."

He looked at Scott, who nodded slowly. "OK. Umm, see you then? And I am sorry."

"See you."

Alex moved outside. For a moment, after he shut the door after him, he pressed his ear to the dark wall. He couldn't hear anything inside. Then he sighed, and moved off.

*

Alex's feet lay on the coffee table, a box of Pop Rocks in his hand, and an unlit cigarette in his hand. He watched the only TV in the house, watching a black and white rerun of _The Bugs Bunny Show_. He laughed at Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck as they moved about on the screen. He placed a handful of Pop Rocks in his mouth, grinning slightly at how they felt against his tongue.

Scott was sitting next to him. His own hand was full of the candies. He was taking so long to eat them the colours were bleeding out onto his hand. He was laughing at the TV show too. Alex wondered if black and white television was easier for him than colour with those glasses. He said he saw everything in shades of red, but Alex couldn't really imagine what that would be like.

It had been a week since Scott woke up. He spent a couple of days in sick bay afterwards, Hank insisting on doing every test under the sun on him. Alex was surprised the kid had any blood and urine left after he was finished with him. It hadn't been the same since he woke up, but Alex hadn't expected them to be able to just go back to how things were before. Hell, the bruises were still on his face (though they were healing too fast). It had been uncomfortable, but now they could at least have a conversation without one of them apologising to the other, and Hank wouldn't glare at him whenever he saw them together.

"You know who would fit in this program?" Alex asked. Scott cocked his head.

"Who?"

"Hank. You know Bitchy Beast or something." Alex laughed. Scott frowned at him.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him." He rolled his eyes.

"It's a joke."

"It's not a very funny joke."

"What would you call him then?"

Scott bit his lip. "Blue Beast?"

"OK, I thought Wolfie was bad! You cannot just describe people and call it a name. That would be like - "

" - calling Hank Beast?" He asked. Smartass."Or the Professor Professor X?"

"I didn't name them!" Alex defended. He threw a pop rock in the air and caught it in his mouth. Scott's eyes didn't leave the TV to appreciate that.

"Do I get a code name?" He asked, thoughtfully. "Hank has Beast and you have Havok but I have nothing."

"No you don't. You have jerk." Scott (probably) rolled his eyes.

"Forget I said anything." He said it so sadly that now Alex felt bad.

"No, we can think of one. Let's see, let's see... Death Eyes?" Scott crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his chin out.

"That's awful."

"Umm... how about... Four Eyes?"

"Really, Alex, just stop."

"No, no, I've got it : Fucked Up Kid." Scott threw his remaining pop rocks at Alex. They hit him, before bouncing off and hitting the floor. Alex grinned proudly.

"NO!"

*

"You want me to shoot him?" Scott asked slowly. He would of looked less shocked if Hank had told him to try shaving off all his blue hair with his power. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Like you've not been dying to since you met me. Some well deserved pay back."

Scott didn't deny that. Alex tried not to feel hurt. After all, he did blast the kid and then beat him up. He was just glad he could still look at him. "I might hurt him."

Hank shook his head. "You absorb his power, meaning he produces an energy that you can convert into something useable in your body. It only makes sense you produce an energy he can use."

Scott bit his lip, looking between the two of them. Probably torn between wanting to hurt Alex and not wanting to use his power against another living thing. Then he raised his hands to his visor. "OK."

Hank grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. Alex grimaced. This better work.

Together Scott and Hank had been doing all sorts of tests down here in the bunker. Scott had been reluctant at first, but the older man had managed to persuade him with promises of better control (though full control was becoming less and less likely) and Blackbird flight and maintenance lessons. They had made lots of progress, including the dorky visor the boy was now wearing. One day McCoy had ran around the whole house in excitement when he discovered the kid's mutation allowed him to be amazing at trigonometry. No wonder he used to hustle pool.

This was the first test that involved Alex. Originally, Hank had made a plan that involved him testing Alex's plasma bursts against the kid. But Alex had vetoed that. They already knew the kid could absorb his power, did they really needed to do it again. But it had only seemed fair the kid could shoot him back.

And that's how he found himself standing there with a red 'x' taped onto his chest. Wires of all different colours had been strapped to him using sticky pads. They fed back into Hank's strange machines. They were to measure... something. Energy absorption rates, he thought. Alex had a habit of shutting off when Hank began to speak. He could recall the man strapping him in those wires when placing him in front of an x-ray machine before Cuba. He claimed it was to help him build a suit that would help Alex control his power, but he suspected he just wanted to kill him via radiation poisoning and claim it was a mistake.

Hank moved away, going towards his machines and out the blast radius. "Shoot when ready."

Alex swallowed, and used all the will power he owned to stop himself from taking a step back. He gave a weak grin. "Don't aim at my face, kid. I need that to pick up women."

Scott snorted. "Like you get women."

Before Alex could object, or even flip him off, the world turned red. Scott's power was like static electricity all over his skin. From his toes to the tips of his hair. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. He moved his hand up. He thought it would be hard to move, like travelling through tar, but it was like nothing was there. Everything shimmered, like he was seeing it underwater.

Then he flew backwards and smashed into a wall.

_Ow._

_Ow. Ow. Ow._

Fuck, that hurt.

He rolled on his back, gasping for air.  He crashed into the wall at the end of the room. But this blast shelter could survive Alex's power, there wasn't even a dent where he flown into it. His head was against the cool concrete floor. All the wires had been ripped off him, leaving his skin feeling tender. After a moment, Scott's face bobbed above him. He looked guilty as hell. Good. He just wished he could say he didn't deserve this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to!"

Alex groaned in reply. He tried moving his head up. Ow. No. Down was good. The cold stone floor wasn't _that_ uncomfortable. "I'm fine, Scottie. Hank was the one who said it would work."

Speak of the devil. Hank's face swung into view. He was grinning. The asshole. "My readings say it did work."

"My reading say, _ow, it fucking did not._ "

Hank looked at him eyebrow raised. Clearly he thought Alex should shut the hell up. "It did. For about 5.628 seconds. It's fascinating."

Alex glared at him. Slowly, he pulled himself up. This time it didn't hurt as much. He moved around so he was leaning against the wall. "Sorry if I don't agree."

"Maybe if we do it again..." Hank mused.

"NO!" shouted Alex and Scott at the same time.

Hank sighed. Clearly he wanted more willing lab rats. "But a more sustained blast from Scott could trigger your power, possibly making it stronger."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's exactly what I need : to have a bigger blast radius when I explode."

Hank ignored him, turning back to Scott. "This is most strange. Are you willing to let Alex shoot you under controlled conditions?"

"No." said Alex, but Scott nodded. "No." He insisted.

"We know your power won't hurt me."

"Your power just made me crash into a wall!"

"I'll be fine." His jaw locked and he crossed his arms over his chest. Stubborn as always. Hank grinned, clapping his hands together.

"Great."

"No, I haven't agreed to this." They both looked at him. He threw up his hands. Damn, who has puppy dog eyes over someone being shot with a death ray? "OK."

Hank pulled Scott down to the firing area, strapping all the wires into him and taping a bright red cross to his chest. Slowly, Alex stood up, taking his place. He couldn't understand how they could be so OK with this. He nearly killed the kid, and now he wanted to be shot all over again. He hadn't actually used his power since that. Every time he tried, he kept seeing the faces of people he hurt.

"OK. I'm ready." Hank moved away. "Try to aim at the cross, not my equipment."

Alex winced. "That happened once." Beast crossed his lab coat covered arms over his chest. Clearly he will never forgive him. He looked back at Scott. "You don't have to do this."

"Do I have to wind you up into a murderous rage again or are you going to man up?" Alex narrowed his eyes. The kid was seriously challenging him? He lifted his hands up, took a deep breath and - nothing happened.

Shit. Not now. He could feel the power Scott gave him humming under his skin, but it was refusing to come out. He closed his eyes. Vincent. Darwin. Scott. No. Think of Hank's smirking face. Yes, that worked. It was building up. Past the point of no return. And then it was coming out. A long scream.

He opened his eyes. Through the red - orange - yellow. It was changing colour. His power had never done that before. It was getting hotter and hotter for the longer it went on. He never sustained it from this length of time. And Scott was just standing the other side. His clothes had burnt off, but he was fine. Finally he stopped, unable to fire for any longer. He lent on his knees, gasping for breath slightly.

"Told you I'll be fine." Scott grinned at him. Alex held up a finger. This would be a lot more impressive if he didn't feel like he was going to collapse.

"Shut up." The kid stuck his tongue out. And to think he was feeling bad about shooting him! He turned to Hank. "Are you happy now?"

The man barely looked up. "I've got to analysis these results in more detail." He began packing up, pulling the wires of Scott, all while muttering under his breath. When he was free, Scott came forward, and nudged him in the side.

"You OK?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just never shot anything for that long before. Usually I just explode with no sense of direction or pacing."

"Does it hurt? When you explode?" Alex shook his head.

"Nah, it feels good. Like jerking off. All that energy and that final orgasmic result." Scott pulled a face.

"That's disguising."

"So you're saying it doesn't feel like jerking off?" Scott bit his lip awkwardly.

"Yeah. Especially when - " He began to blush. Alex raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the wide grin on his face.

"Go on."

"When you don't do it for a while, and then you do and it's fucking amazing."

"You know, I don't think I've ever done that." Scott opened his mouth, probably wondering if he meant masturbating or using his power, before deciding he didn't want to know. "Of course, it hurts when you don't do it. It boils under your skin and - well - it makes me short tempered." The kid raised an eyebrow. " _More_ short tempered, asshole."

"Gives me a headache. Less so with the glasses." He tapped his visor.

"So when we were travelling around..." He suddenly realised. The kid never complained about headaches, but then he wouldn't complain if a car parked on his foot if he thought it was an inconvenience.  He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"I'm used to it."

Alex frowned. Damn, he was doing that parent thing again. "You should of told me." Alex could vaguely remember the tricks his mother would use of Paulette when she began screaming the house down. And what Hayley taught him to do when Joanna Blanding had a hangover. Walk around on tip toes, lots of water and darkness. Or else you'll have to answer to her husband. He sometimes felt guilty that he left Hayley on her own with them, to fend for herself.

Hank hurried between them, arms full of equipment. "Can you strong men help me carry the rest up to my lab. Also, Scott, I need more blood."

Alex and Scott shared a look over his back.

"He's like a fucking vampire." Scott said.

*

Alex looked up from the research scattered across Hank's lab table. He'd been called up five minutes ago, along with the Professor. Scott had already been there, sitting on the bench. When Alex had asked him what this was about he just looked down, saying nothing. He looked at him again, seeing if the kid's face would help him make sense of any of it, but it was as hard to work out as ever. Alex thought once tape was replaced by glasses, it would be easier to read. He had been wrong.

McCoy was still talking. The Professor was nodding away, asking his own questions in that scientific babble. Alex finally had enough, wanting to know what the hell was going on. He cut over them.

"Explain it like you're talking to a middle-schooler." Hank opened his mouth, but he quickly carried on talking over him before he could begin another explanation. "Actually, you probably went to a genius school. Explain it like I'm five."

"I went to the local middle school... I was just two years younger than my peers." Alex gave him a look that said it wasn't helping his case. Just in case his genius IQ couldn't work it out, he muttered "nerd" under his breath as well. "OK. In Scott's cells - you do know what cells are, right?"

Alex gave him a finger. Smarty asshole loser. The Professor sharply told him to mind his manners.

"Just making sure. Scott's cells absorb energy, which you already knew. However, they absorb too much energy. They have been altered."

"Altered?"

"It means changed." Hank sighed.

"I _know_ what altered means. I'm asking why, and by who."

"Well he didn't sign his work. At lease from what I can tell. This is far above even theoretical thinking about the matter. And to do it near perfectly. It's amazing. I wouldn't of even been able to spot it if I wasn't looking for it. I would love to meet the man - or woman - who did this. Talk to him - "

"And punch him in the face?" Alex suggested, cutting over the man's gushing.

Hank coughed, back tracking. "Of course. What he did was despicable. Experimenting on a child without their permission. It goes against every moral code."

Alex rolled his eyes. Give Hank half the chance, he would probably cut into them quite happily. "So can you explain to me what this means?"

Hank pushed his glasses up his nose. Did he even need them anymore since his transformation, or did he just wear them as part of the look? "It allows Scott to take in and store more energy. From the similarities of your powers, I am using you as what it should be like. From the tests we conducted the other day in the bunker, I have found he can take in about five times the amount of energy you can. This leaves his beams stronger, more deadly and he can use them for longer. However, it also leaves him weaker afterwards, resulting in fainting."

Alex turned to Scott. "You've fainted?" Before he met Scott, that would be said in a mocking tone. Now it was just concerned. The boy shuffled uncomfortably.

"It's no big deal." He muttered around Wolfie.

Hank nodded. "It had no negative effects on the boy. His body simply needed to recharge again."

"And that's why he can't control his powers?"

Hank and the Professor shared a look. So that was a no then.

"The brain damage. My file didn't lie." Scott said, mournfully.

"Oh." Alex said, lost for words. "That sucks."

The look Xavier sent his way said that was the wrong reaction.

"It does make trying to work out which side effects are from the damage and what is from the alterations incredibly hard to distinguish." Hank carried on, cheerfully. Really, why wasn't the Prof glaring at him? He wasn't even trying to hide the boner this whole thing was giving him. "Of course, some are obvious. Much like Alex's metabolism is slowed so is Scott's, to a much greater extent. This explains the quicker healing, and slower aging."

Alex's head flew up. "Did you just say slower aging?" Paulette Summers. Scott had been so sure - no. Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed. Just a coincidence.

McCoy nodded, unaware of the turmoil this was causing in Alex.  "Yes, about  1:5 ratio of a humans. Slower than even mine."

"So that would make him?" Scott clearly already knew. His head was bowed. More bowed.

"Well, it's hard to say. This isn't like a surgery where I can find out from the scar tissue, and with the accelerated healing factor it may not be correct anyway. But assuming Scott's brain damage is from the plane crash rather than a later event, and assuming it happened at eight years old like his file said, we can get a rough idea. The scar tissue in his brain is fourteen years old. That would make him - "

"Twenty-two." It was Scott who said it.

The number bounced around his head. He did the maths himself. Fourteen plus eight. Twenty-two. That was how old Paulette would be.

A plane crash. A dead older sister. A fourteen year old boy who was actually twenty-two and a woman who was called Paulette Summers and knew detail about her life that he really shouldn't.

Hank was still speaking, but Alex barely heard him. Something about how Scott's file lied so much anyway they couldn't be sure anyway. Something about how somebody else could be pulling the strings. None of that was going in. Because Scott was Paulette and that didn't make any sense at all.

He stood up, shakily, and left the room and all but collapsed onto the wall outside, head in hands.

*

Alex lay on his bed, eyes closed. A cigarette was between his fingers, and every time he remember it was there he took another drag. His mind was going too fast. No matter how hard he tried to talk himself out of it, he kept coming back to the same conclusion.

A knock on the door. He ignored it, but it came again. And again. And again. Each time it was louder and more insistent. He wanted to scream at them. Tell them to fuck off and not come back. Groaning, he told them to go away. The door creaked open and quiet footsteps made its way inside. Scott. Paulette. His sibling. Maybe. Definitely. He dragged himself to sitting position, leaning back against the headboard.

"You believe me now?" The boy asked, softly. It wasn't an accusation. He was standing in front of the photograph on the shelf. He picked it up, his fingers travelling over the people in it.

"You never stopped believing." The boy nodded, even though it wasn't a question.

"You didn't answer me." Alex buried his head in hands.

"Yes."

" Sorry."

_You should be._ He bit it back. It wasn't Scott's fault he couldn't live up to the Paulette Alex had imagined. He just got his sister back and all he could do was fine faults! Except that was part of the problem. He didn't have a sister anymore.

Maybe... maybe he never had a sister. Paulie had always been a tomboy. Their mother had despaired, saddened her only daughter refused to wear dresses and chopped off all her hair. She used to play with the boys at the airbase, fighting and rolling in mud with the rest of them. When he was younger, Alex would of dismissed it. At church, the Priest always claimed God didn't make mistakes. But he stopped believing in God when his mutation showed itself. And if someone could be born in a body that shot plasma then maybe men could be born in women's bodies.

The truth was, he knew Paulie as much as he knew Scott.

But he couldn't say it was OK. He couldn't lie through his teeth to his sister.

"Bring the photograph over." Scott looked at him in confusion. Then he brought it over, sitting on the side of the bed. He passed it over.

Alex held it up, putting the picture of Paulie next to the boy. The grinning toddler and the damaged child. His glasses - whose thick frames withstood the punches better than his skin - covered his face, making it hard to compare features. No matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't see Scott in the girl.

His eyes found themselves drawn to his mother. One of Alex's earliest memories was of her blonde hair shinning. In his mind it was like sunlight, as light as air as he ran his hands through it. In reality he suspected it was probably the same shade as his, and as thick and heavy, but the black and white photograph could neither confirm nor deny this. As his eyes gazed at her face, he realised her nose was the same as Scott's, her features the same distance apart on her face. If the boy grew his hair in the same style and dyed it blonde, yes they could be the same person.

"You look like her."

Scott frowned. "I am her."

Alex shook his head, annoyed the boy couldn't follow his train of thought. "Mom. You look like my - _our_ \- mom."

"Oh."

Alex put the photograph down on the bedside table. His family, watching him. To him, their souls were in this photograph.

"DAMN IT!" He suddenly yelled. Scott jumped at his exclamation. He edged away, like he was worried Alex would beat his face in again. Quickly, Alex apologised. "Just I spent years imagining what I would say... _do_... if I you came back. I was so sure it was all a mistake. And now you're here, in front of me, and I don't have the first clue what to say!"

"I never forgot you. I can't really remember the first thing about our parents. But you - I can remember you. And... and I had to look after you. I remember someone - Dad maybe, or... did we have grandparents?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess not. Or else we would of gone and lived with them."

"Right. And someone said, "you've got a younger brother now, and that means you have to look after him". I'm paraphrasing. But it stayed with me. That I had to look after you. And at the orphanage, when they said you weren't real, like I couldn't believe, because that went around and around in my head. I had to look after you." Scott curled up on himself. "I didn't do a very good job."

"You didn't know I was alive!" Alex pointed out.

"I should of tried to find you anyway. I knew they were lying and a didn't do a thing about it."

"You were eight!" Scott shrugged. Clearly he thought age was a bad excuse. "I don't know why I doubted it. Only Paulie could beat themselves up over an impossible task."

Scott froze and Alex realised he'd just kicked the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry." Scott said, before sighing. Alex wanted him to stop apologising for things that wasn't his fault. "I'm a freak. I tried for so long to be Paulette and I couldn't. You want your sister. I just wanted my brother back, I never thought about you."

Alex held his hands up. "Yes. I wanted my sister back. Of course I did. And I've got her back, she's just different. Me thinking you would be the same eight year old is as ridiculous as me being the same six year old. We've grown up and we've changed. If my older sister is now my younger brother, well, that's OK."

It wasn't his greatest speech, but Scott still smiled.

"So you'll still call me Scott and use the right pronouns and stuff?" He still sounded worried.

"Hell yes. Scott we're a bunch of mutants. This isn't even the weirdest thing I've come across." He lent in, like he was about to reveal a great secret. His brother (brother!) lent in too, so their heads brushed each others. "The Professor's sister can change her body at will and we don't use he pronouns for her because she has grown a dick." He didn't add that she would beat the living shit out of you if you did.

Scott bit his lip. Was this kid never convinced? "You know, the Professor used the same story to tell me why I can't be a boy."

Alex cursed under his breath. Fucking Xavier. "Well, I know better than him, and do you know why?" Scott shook his head. "Because I'm your older and brother, and as you said when we were younger, the older sibling is always right."

Scott crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "I'm still the older sibling!"

Alex laughed. "Which one of us can buy cigarettes? Which one of us can drive a car? Oh yes, me!"

Scott kept frowning. "I can do both of those things!"

"Legally." Scott stuck his tongue out in annoyance. "See you're embracing younger brother culture already!"

Silence fell, but a comfortable one. Just thinking the whirlwind through, absorbing it.

"If I want to adopt you officially, we would probably have to do a DNA test to prove it, seeing as your file doesn't say you have any siblings, and mine says their dead. And you're younger than me. At least Xavier wiped my criminal record."

Scott looked at him in shock. "Adoption?"

"Sorry, is it too soon?"

He shook his head. "No. No. It's just - wow - nobody wanted to adopt me before."

Alex reached over and ruffled the kid's hair. "What, do you think I'm going to let some loud mouth asshole social worker come in and take you away from me again?"

He had never seen Scott grin so wide. Then he stopped, and shuffled awkwardly. Crap. Nothing good came out of the kid shuffling like that.

"What?" He asked, carefully.

"Don't be mad but... HankhasalreadydoneaDNAtest." Alex narrowed his eyes.

"Did you just say Hank did a DNA test?" Scott nodded miserably.

"Yeah. After you... um... attacked me. He wanted to check every possibility out"

"And it came back positive?" Scott gave him a look that said _really_. "Right. Of course it came back positive. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hank said that sibling tests aren't always as accurate as parental ones... and I didn't want to bring it up again."

"So you just sat on it! Both of you! And Xavier knew as well didn't he? He knows everything. Why the hell didn't you tell me!"

"You seemed pretty sure - "

"I don't care what I said! You all knew I was your brother and none of you said a thing! And you thought I would be OK with it!"

Scott shuffled away. "Sorry."

Alex snorted. "Sorry? For fucks sake Scott."

He stood up. "Maybe I should - "

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare walk out right now." Obediently, Scott said back down. Alex did some breathing and willed himself to calm down. "I'm good." He finally said. "I've processed it. I'm fine. Just, no more DNA tests without my consent."

Scott nodded, seriously. "If it turns out we have another estranged sibling..."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Got any other bomb shells you want to drop on me?"

Scott thought for a bit, then shook his head. "No. You?"

"No." Pause. "Well, I had a moose called Scott once."

The kid raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

"Uh-huh. We had this big fight over what to name it and I won."

Scott snorted. "Now I know you're lying. You never won anything against me."

"Not so."

"So."

"Not."

"So."

"Agree to disagree?" Alex finally settled on, realising he was now the older brother, and had to be slightly more mature. Even if your sibling was a pain in your ass. Scott smirked, and Alex felt a pool of dread spread in his stomach. He had come to the same conclusion : as the younger brother he could be immature. Probably pay back from when Alex was a pain in his ass.

"No."

Alex slapped the back of the kid's head. "Big talk for someone who named himself after a toy moose - that he lost the fight for naming."

Maybe he wasn't quite ready to completely give up those younger brother days yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
